Captain of the Guard
by you-animal
Summary: Helwyn, Daughter of Saluriel, Captain of the Guard of Minas Tirith, is given the duty of protecting Lord Boromir as he takes the journey to Imladris and joins the Fellowship of the Ring. As Mordor's darkness spreads she struggles to hold on to what she has left, and to avoid falling for someone she can never have. Legolas/OC
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: Of course I own nothing of LoTR, but Helwyn is mine.**

**I know that it is highly unlikely that a woman in LoTR would be Captain of the Guard, or have any military position at all, but I am evoking some artistic licence and dragging it into the modern time a little. Assume that woman have equal rights to men in this story, and that it's perfectly normal to have female soldiers.**

**Enjoy!**

**B.**

***This has been slightly edited by the addition of an extra scene.**

* * *

The air was cool and crisp as we rode into Imladris, the last rays of the sun illuminating the autumn leaves on the trees so that they burned red and gold above our heads. I had never had much of a desire for travel, content to remain in the lands of Gondor. My mother, coming from Dol Amroth by the sea and retaining her love for distant horizons, had been disappointed by her only child's singular interest in the sword. It had not stopped her from supporting me in my training as one of the royal guard, but I knew she had wanted me to take the opportunity to travel Arda as she longed to do. I imagined what she would think now, as we clattered into the courtyard of the Last Homely House, and I marvelled at it's beauty. It was nothing like the cold, stark stone of Minas Tirith. It had a sense of welcome, of comfort and warmth, even with the air so chill. As we dismounted from our horses, I decided that 'homely' suited the place rather well.

"Lord Boromir," Lord Elrond greeted as my Lord and I handed the reins of our mounts to the stable-staff who had approached us. I gave my young bay stallion, Nahar, a last pat on the neck as he was led away for well-deserved rest. The journey had been long, but despite being young and not having spent much time with him previously, he had carried me unfalteringly.

"Lord Elrond, it is truly welcome to see you after such a journey." Lord Boromir gestured to me at his side, "I do not believe you have met Helwyn, she is Captain of the Guard of Minas Tirith."

I gave a shallow bow to Elrond, and he inclined his head in return before turning back to my Lord and questioning, "the journey was troubled?"

"No, just long and tiresome."

I said nothing. It was true enough that the journey had not been particularly troubling, but it had not been easy either. We had encountered bands of Orcs much more frequently than normal, and more than once we had been forced to change our route because there was a group too large for us to handle alone. The land had seemed eerily hostile. It was certainly significant if even I, travelling out of Gondor's lands for the first time, had noticed it. Studying the Elf-lord, taking in his slight frown and the severe set of his mouth, I knew that he was well aware of the tension brewing in Middle-earth.

We did not talk for long, I said nothing while they exchanged little more than pleasantries. Lord Elrond seemed distracted, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, and Lord Boromir and I were weary from travel in any case. As twilight settled lamps were lit so that everything was cast in a soft orange glow, and I stove to take in as much of the place as I could while we were led to our rooms. Plants grew everywhere, even clinging to the walls of the building, which itself looked to have been grown rather than built. Even with night falling we passed a number of elves, most laughing and singing together, the words indecipherable to me but impossibly beautiful nonetheless. I had never seen elves before, and they seemed fascinatingly ethereal with the shadows casing patterns across their merry faces.

My room was blessed sight after being on the road for so long. A bath was drawn for me – another sorely missed luxury – and as I thoroughly washed the dirt from my skin I revelled in the privacy. As Captain of the Guard I had fought alongside Lord Boromir for several years defending Gondor's boarders, and although I would never be his equal, a camaraderie had formed between us as it did between all men who faced battle together. The fact that I considered him a friend did not mean that spending three months in his constant company was not tiring. Especially in the beginning, when he had resented my presence at his side.

It was not personal, I knew. The moment Lord Denethor informed me that he wished for me to accompany his eldest son to Imaldris, as a means to ensure his safety, it was obvious to me how Lord Boromir would react. I had protested on the grounds that I could not leave my post during such difficult times, but in the end I could not deny my Lord. Boromir, of course, had made his opposition to it plain.

"I am no child who needs shielding!" He had raged, pacing back and forth in the corridor outside the main Hall, after Lord Denethor had dismissed us. His ire was understandable - after all, I was more than ten years his junior and although I was naturally skilled with a blade he had much more experience than I. Truly, he did not need me.

"Your Father knows this, my Lord. It is only his love for you that causes him to worry for your safety." I had counselled calmly, though I did not point out that he should be grateful for it. I doubted his younger brother, Lord Faramir, would have received the same concern.

"It is insulting," Lord Boromir spat in anger. Even so, he said no more on the subject and I had done my best to make my guard of him as subtle as possible on our journey.

I sighed, rinsing out my dark hair as I thought longingly of home. I had sworn an oath that I would protect and serve the Stewards of Gondor, and I would gladly follow Lord Boromir across the whole of Arda to fulfil it, but I could not help missing my city. My true duty lay there, in slaying those enemies who dared cross our boarders. At this time, I should have been hearing reports from the days patrols and organising the ones for tomorrow, not leagues away where I was effectively useless.

I left the bath when the water turned cool, returning to my chamber to find that a meal had been left for me. The several large, open windows allowed the faint sounds of the evening to filter in, the air fresh and crisp as it never was in Minas Tirith. I breathed it in deeply as I set aside the empty bowls. It mattered not why I was here, or how I felt about it. I would carry out my duty as best I could regardless. On the morrow we would find out what was to be done about the dark forces growing in the East, and I could only hope that Gondor would remain strong until I could return.

With a sigh I fell into the soft, silky comfort of the bed, and slept.

.o0o.

I woke to the sound of birdsong, the morning sunlight spilling in through the windows. I stretched languidly, enjoying the moment of peace and relaxation before I rose. I felt well-rested for the first time since leaving Minas Tirith. I could not linger for long, however, and so a washed my face and dressed quickly in my simple leggings and tunic. I left off my leather 'armour', as I did not think safety would be an issue, but still strapped my sword to my waist by force of habit. I would not feel right if I wandered around unarmed. I braided back my hair and grabbed my cloak as I left, for warmth.

Lord Boromir's room was only a door away from mine. I knocked briskly and waited until he called me in. It seemed he had not woken before me, as when I entered he was seated on the bed and busy lacing his boots. His hair was dishevelled from sleep, which I smirked briefly at but said nothing about. I had always been rather serious, a side-effect of having such heavy responsibilities when I was barely eight-and-twenty. I'd always needed to prove myself sensible and reliable. Small moments of amusement – such as allowing Lord Boromir to leave his room with bed-hair – were the only outlets I allowed myself.

"Helwyn!" He exclaimed upon seeing me, "I trust you slept well?"

"Of course, my Lord," I answered, standing straight with my hands clasped behind my back, the traditional relaxed stance for all members of the Guard. "The tales of the hospitality of the Elves has not been exaggerated."

"No, indeed." Lord Boromir finished with his boots but did not stand, resting his forearms against his knees with his hands clasped as he frowned in thought. I knew him well enough to tell that he was brooding. When he said nothing further, I enquired,

"And you, my Lord?"

"Yes, yes, my night was well." He rose, pacing toward the window, brows still furrowed. "I dislike that we must come to the Elves for aid against our enemies."

I paused, knowing that I would have to reply carefully. Boromir was a good, noble man, but his moods were volatile. Especially when his pride in Gondor was touched. "The Elves have ever been the allies of men, my Lord."

"Then why have they sat back in their gilded halls while our men die to keep their lands free?" Boromir demanded, turning to face me in a rush of emotion. I kept my expression clear.

"To join us outright would have been a signal to our enemies that we were ready for war, my Lord."

"Perhaps," Boromir said, beginning to pace back and forth. "But war will come upon us regardless, and would it not have been better to strike against our enemies while they were weakest? Instead we have suffered while waiting for the Elves to summon us at their leisure."

"Gondor would not have been strong enough for war, even with the Elves, my Lord," I reminded, and though it pained me to say it, truthfully Gondor was still not ready. Especially with Osgiliath under attack. I hesitated, then continued, "whatever their transgressions, it would be foolish to reject the Elves help now."

Boromir stopped and faced her, eyebrows raised. "You think me a fool, Helwyn?"

I frowned briefly, offended that he would think such a thing of me, "of course I do not, my Lord. My loyalty to you is unwavering."

"You can be loyal and still think me a fool," Boromir pointed out, then sighed and slumped to the bed once more. "You are right, I know the truth of Gondor's position as well as you. I will welcome the Elves as friends, fear not."

His words did not put me at ease. It is I who would be the fool to think Lord Boromir's ill feeling towards the Elves, and all others who had allowed Gondor to struggle alone, would simply be forgotten. I could not help but feel that any alliance made would be tainted by this.

If so, it would be easily broken.


	2. Chapter Two

**I added an extra scene to the end of the last chapter. It was supposed to be in this one, but then this ended up being too long and the first was too short so! You may want to go back and read it.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, I really appreciate it.**

**B.**

* * *

We sat in a circle, dappled sunlight playing across the stone floor. Lord Elrond had called us here for the meeting between the free-peoples of Middle-earth, and I took a moment to analyse those who sat with Lord Boromir and I. The dwarves were as they were always described – broad and bearded, their garments clearly not made for battle rather than style. I was pleased to see that Mithrandir was here. He had visited Minas Tirith many times, and I knew and liked him well. He caught my eye, greeting me with a smile. I inclined my head in return.

There was a ranger also, which was surprising. He looked road-weary and his handsome face was grave. Though he was not dressed grandly, he held a quiet authority I recognised easily from my years as a soldier. He was, I knew, a man who men would follow into battle and be glad to die beside. Most curious, though, was the halfling who sat beside the ranger. With his dark curly head and smooth features he seemed little more than a child, but there was a depth to those eyes that suggested he was not as naïve as he appeared.

I lingered longest on the Elves, as I had always been greatly interested in their culture. To my shame, it was not purely for academic reasons that I focused on one in particular. I had been plenty on handsome men in Minas Tirith, but none who could compare to this Elf. His face was angular – sharp, slanting cheekbones and a strong jaw – and yet it was not harsh. His blue eyes were almost gentle, their colour enhanced by the soft grey of his robe. His pale hair was pulled back in intricate braids, shining like a golden halo in the sunlight. I knew that all elves were fair, I had seen several in Imaldris already, but still he captured my attention as no other had.

I had the strangest urge to trace the pointed tips of his ears with my fingers.

I forced myself to look away, embarrassed that I had allowed myself to be distracted. I said nothing of my observations to Lord Boromir, though I knew that he would have noticed nothing. He was oblivious to the details, most of the time, while I took the time to take in as much as possible. If anything of serious concern came up I always notified him, but otherwise I left him to flounder. Another of my private amusements.

Lord Elrond stepped forward, eyeing us all in turn before addressing us. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom."

The words hung heavily in the air.

Elrond continued, "bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The little halfling, Frodo, stepped forwards and placed the Ring on the stone plinth at the centre of the circle before returning to his seat. I felt a dawning sense of dread, even as Lord Boromir shifted excitedly beside me.

"So it is true!" He murmured, and the awe in his voice as he stood and stepped towards the Ring only made my discomfort worse. "In a dream, I saw the Eastern sky grow dark, but in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, "The doom is near at hand, Isildur's Bane is found."

I had heard this dream before, he had told me on our travels, and even then it had made me wary. Now, as he looked to the Ring with such dream-like wonder I felt the overpowering urge to pull him back to his seat, away from the cursed thing.

"_Isildur's bane..._" He reached out towards it. I hesitated, knowing that it was not my place to question him, but I could not allow him to take the Ring.

"My Lord!"

Lord Boromir jerked and turned to me, and I had readied myself for his anger when Mithrandir spoke. It was not something I ever wished to hear again – it was dark and thundering, and I felt it shake me deep into my bones. It was as if the whole world had turned dim. I saw, to my relief, that Boromir backed away from the Ring.

"_Ash Nazg Durbatuluk, Ash Nazg Gimbatul, Ash Nazg Thrakatuluk, Agh Burzum-ishi Krimpatul."_

Lord Elrong recovered first, "never before has anyone dared utter words of that tongue here, in Imladris."

"I do not ask for pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" Mithrandir's gaze was serious as he surveyed us all. "The Ring is altogether evil."

"It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor!" Boromir exclaimed, leaning forward in his eagerness. I watched him, unsurprised considering our conversation that morning, but my heart sinking to the very depths of the Earth nonetheless. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot weild it." The ranger answered, calm but firm. "None of us can. The one Ring answers to Sauron alone, it has no other master."

Boromir turned to look at him, coolly. "And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

I sighed internally.

The Elf stood suddenly in a way that was impossibly graceful. He was tall and slender, nothing like the brawny soldiers of Gonder, yet there was a fierce passion in his expression that made my breath catch slightly. I knew, then, that he was as much a warrior as Lord Boromir, and certainly more of one than I.

"This is no mere ranger," he said. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

The disbelief in Boromir's tone mirrored my own shock exactly, "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," the Elf continued.

The ranger, Aragorn, shook his head and said quietly, "avo dad, Legolas."

I did not know what he said, but the Elf (Legolas?) took his seat once again. I turned to look at Lord Aragorn, and now that I knew his identity my earlier observations suddenly made sense. Even now he did not seem ruffled in the slightest, his expression mild and his manner unassuming. I had served the Steward of Gondor most of my life, my loyalty to him and his sons had always been unwavering. In an instant, however, my loyalty was now also given to this man, this _King. _My King.

The Elf was correct. My oath was to Gondor, and as her king I owed my allegiance to Lord Aragorn as I never had to her Steward.

"Gondor has no King," Boromir sneered. "Gondor needs no King,"

I wondered if he truly believed it.

I listened as Elrond spoke of the Ring's destruction, watching Frodo wince as the Dwarf's axe shattered against it. My own thoughts weighed heavily on me. My life had been built around my loyalty to Lord Denethor, it had been the constant certainty in my life, the basis to which all my actions had been decided. To have it shaken so thoroughly was disconcerting. I felt adrift, almost.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess." Lord Elrond spoke, his face timeless, neither old nor young, though in it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom and only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."

The silence was stunned. I glanced to Boromir, hoping that he would not offer to do it. The Ring would never reach Mordor if he did.

Thankfully, he did not. Instead, he spat angrily, "one does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

The Elf spoke again, "have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed."

"And I supposed you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli demanded.

"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" Boromir continued, scowling. I could feel the tensions rising and attempted to placate Boromir while I could.

"My Lord, we must-"  
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Gimli interrupted me, leaping to his feet.

A storm of anger broke out. The thought of any alliance now seemed impossible. Even Mithrandir joined the voices, trying to force the other to see reason, eventually resorting to cursing us all for our stupidity.

"My Lord, we cannot face our enemies alone," I pleaded Boromir. "We must find a way to work with them to defeat Sauron, and if Lord Elrond says that destroying the Ring-"

"The Ring may be our one chance of survival!" Boromir turned on me with a snarl. "Regardless, this plan is rash and impossible, there is no way to enter Mordor!"

I held my ground, calmly. "I am confident that we could find a way-"

"Enough! Do not question me, Helwyn! You are too young to know of the difficulties we face, you are little more than a child-"

"I will take it!"

All heads turned to face the halfling, silence finally settling. He looked pale and cautious, yet the determination in his eyes was steady. Frodo, I knew, was better than any of us.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor," he continued, pausing for a moment before adding, "though I do not know the way."

Mithrandir stepped forward with a smile, though I thought that there was something sad in his eyes as he lay his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

"If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will." Lord Aragorn came forward through the crowd to kneel at Frodo's feet. "You have my sword."

"And my bow."

"And my axe."

The Elf and Gimli also stepped up beside them. I looked at Boromir, the sting of his words still fresh. This man I had served faithfully, gladly, and I had never failed him. I respected him, and I had thought that I had earned his respect also. It seemed, however, that I was still just a child to him, though I knew in my soul that I had not been a child for many years now. What would it take, I wondered, to prove myself?

I always knew I would have died for Lord Boromir, and Lord Faramir. Now, as I turned to face those surrounding Frodo, I knew that I would die for them also. My world had been shaken by the revealing of Lord Aragorn; this, then, was my new purpose. I would protect and guard these men as I had protected Minas Tirith, with my whole self. I would not let their quest fail.

My heart beating hard in my chest, I bowed before Frodo. "You have all that I can offer you."

I had taken oaths before; it was clear to me that this was one.

I could not bear to look at Boromir. No matter what happened, I was still in his service and I would have to follow him above all others. I did not mind it, he was close to my heart after all. I only prayed he did not turn away now.

"If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done," he said as he joined us. The hand he placed on my shoulder was reassuring, and with the knowledge that he was not angry with me my spirits lifted. The hurt his previous words had caused me remained, but we had fought together for a long time, and there are some bonds of friendship that cannot be broken so easily.

"Hey!" A second halfling bust in between Mithrandir and Lord Aragorn, taking his place at Frodo's side. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

I allowed myself to smile.


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I own nothing other than Helwyn.**

**To clarify – Helwyn is 28. She became Captain at the age of 20, which will be mentioned later in the story. The reason Boromir calls her a child is because, at 40, he has much more experience than her. 28 is still young to him, especially for someone with her position. The reason she has such a high position at a young age will all be revealed later.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, and if there is anything else you need explanations for or you think is questionable, don't hesitate to say so. I am perfectly happy for all comments as long as they are constructive. I know I have faults!**

**B.**

* * *

I did not go to sleep right away on our final night in Imladris, though I knew that we were leaving at dawn. I felt restless, unused to inactivity. To ease my unrest I walked the halls, allowing the peaceful quiet to sooth me. I had a feeling it would be a while until I felt such tranquillity again. The road would be long and hard, yet I could not bring myself to fear it. Here, the troubles of the world seemed unreal and distant – a true haven.

The hall widened out into a chamber of sorts, though the walls were almost entirely glassless windows and so it was more akin to a clearing than anything. I stepped into it before noticing the figure leaning against the pillar of one such window, gazing out into the evening. I recognised the waterfall of pale hair instantly. Though I had not spoken to the other members of the Fellowship beyond the introductions, Legolas of Mirkwood was impossible to mistake.

I froze, hovering at the edge and wondering if I could quietly leave, but he had turned to me before I could.

"Helwyn," he greeted, his voice smooth and clear. The way he said my name was impossibly pleasant.

"My Lord," I returned, bowing my head a little, before moving to leave. "My apologies. I did not intend to intrude."

"Please, there is no need for formalities," he waved his hand dismissively. "And you did not intrude, join me if you wish."

I hesitated, and then decided that I could not leave without appearing rude. I covered the few paces to stand a respectable distance from him, slipping into my usual stance in an effort to disguise my discomfort. He was taller than I, though I was not short.

"I am surprised you are not resting," Legolas spoke. I did not look at him, turning my gaze to the gardens instead.

"The night is pleasant, and I thought to enjoy it while I could," I replied, truthfully.

"These are the moments we must remember in the days to come," he agreed.

"And you?"

The smile in his voice was clear, "I do not require rest as you do."

I nodded absently, remembering what I had read of the Elves and their 'waking-sleep'. We lapsed into silence. Causal conversation with those I did not know well had never come easily to me. Outside of the battlefield I did not posses Boromir's charisma, the inborn ability to befriend anyone in a moment. Usually, I would find silences awkward and stiff. Standing beside Legolas, however, I was oddly at ease. Perhaps is was because he was so serene that I automatically responded to it, relaxing also. I did not feel as if he was expecting anything from me, as so many were. I was comfortable.

I do not know how long we stood together, but eventually I grew weary. I faced him to make my excuses to leave, but the words never left my lips. Bathed in moonlight, he was like a vision from a dream. He seemed to glow, ethereal, the contrast of the shadows emphasising the fine features of his face. My breath caught in my throat. It was this image of him that I would remember during all the sorrows to come, that I would bring to mind for comfort as I lay alone and in despair. I did not know it then, and when his eyes flickered to me I hastily pulled myself together.

"My Lord-"

"Legolas," he corrected again, and before I had the chance to speak his expression turned almost mischievous, his lips curving up at one corner. "Though I admit it was amusing to see Aragorn's reaction to your use of titles."

I thought back to the look of surprise and awkward discomfort on Aragorn's face and reflexively smiled. "I confess that it is force of habit. Titles are considered important in Gondor, particularly to one's King."

Legolas studied me for a moment, "you are not a noble?"

I shook my head. "My family is of average wealth and we hold no title. It would not be correct of me to disregard proper forms of address."

"Not even when among friends?" He raised his eyebrows playfully, but his eyes were serious. I had very few friends, Lord Boromir being my closest and even then it was not a true friendship – not when I was so far his social inferior. My position made making friends difficult, when I had to keep my authority over those who did not wish to be ordered by a woman much younger than them. I knew, of course, that we would have to get along for this Fellowship to work, but I could not help being pleased that Legolas would be happy to consider me a friend.

"Perhaps I could manage it then," I said, smile widening to match his own.

.o0o.

The sun was just rising as we climbed from the cloven vale of Imladris the next morning, and I paused for a moment to turn back and watch the first rays illuminate it's beauty. I had enjoyed my time with the Elves there, and somewhat regretted that I could not linger there longer to learn more. It could not compare, however, to my home. I pictured the White Tower of Ecthelion shining brilliant silver against a backdrop of clear blue skies, it's banner caught high in the wind. Perhaps I would visit Imladris once again in the future, but Minas Tirith was where my heart truly lay.

The day passed pleasantly. The weight of my pack was heavy, but I relished the fresh air and the burn of my muscles. Boromir was at the front with Aragorn, discussing something in-depth. I stayed at the back as a rear guard, though I kept a close eye on my Lord, listening absently to Merry and Pippin's chatter beside me. I found that they were delightful company and even added a few comments of my own. I learnt a lot of their home, and they a lot of mine due to their incessant pestering. I did not mind, however. They reminded me of young recruits, bright and happy and unburdened by the world. Their eagerness for life was refreshing.

Some time in late afternoon Mithrandir dropped back to walk at my side, a twinkle in his eyes as always. "It has been a long time since our last conversation, Helwyn."

"Through no fault of mine, Mithrandir," I replied. "It is you who has been wandering and neglected to visit."

My tone was serious as always, but he knew me well enough to tell I was teasing. I had know Mithrandir since I was a recruit guarding the citadel doors, and though Lord Denethor and many others had been suspicious of him I had never shared their misgivings. Whenever he came to Minas Titith I took the time to seek him out for conversation.

He gave me a stern look for my comment but the twinkle did not leave his eyes, "tell me then, how fairs Minas Tirith?"

"Well enough," I watched as, up ahead, Legolas returned from scouting and spoke quickly with Aragorn. His face was untroubled so I did not worry. As we readied to leave that morning I had greeted Aragorn with his titles once again, since I could not yet bring myself to use his name, and had briefly caught Legolas' eyes. The look of shared amusement between us at Aragorn's reaction had pleased me greatly. "Lord Boromir was successful in defending Osgiliath, but the bands of Orcs who invade our lands grow bigger and they come more frequently."

Mithrandir nodded to himself thoughtfully. "And Faramir?"

"Still serves Gondor proudly." _With no thanks from his Father_, I thought but did not add. It was not my place to say such things. Besides, by Mithrandir's knowing look I could tell he shared my thoughts.

We moved on to speak of gentler things, Mithrandir inquiring after my family and the goings-on at court. There was not much to say since I was an only child, but my cousin had given birth to a baby girl a few weeks before my departure. I had shared much of my life with Mithrandir and he was always interested in the latest news. Tales of court drama amused him. Still, it seemed odd to talk of such mundane things with so much hovering on the horizon.

At length, he said, "I am surprised you did not remain in Minas Tirith during these such troubling times."

"Lord Denethor wished for me to accompany Lord Boromir," I admitted.

"I see," Mithrandir looked grave for a moment. "Then he is still a fool. To send you away for such a reason when no other can lead the Guard sufficiently in your stead!"

I focused on the path before us uncomfortably. I could not say anything against Lord Denethor, but I could not deny Mithrandir's words as I refused to lie. Boromir did not need me, being a fine warrior in his own right. My presence here was superfluous. Lord Denethor's rule was failing and his orders were rash. I could only hope he would last until this war was over. Thankfully, I was saved from attempting a reply by Pippin.

"Who is a fool?" He piped up, wide eyes curious.

"You most certainly, Peregrin Took," Mithrandir huffed grumpily and left to take the lead. Merry shrugged,

"Told you not to eavesdrop, Pip."


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I don't own lotr, but Helwyn is mine.**

* * *

The days passed. I found myself more at ease with the Fellowship then I ever had been among my own men and woman in Minas Tirith. It was not that I had disliked them; we got along well, but I was their Captain and as such I had to uphold my authority at all times. With those equal to my position, and my superiors, I felt I had something to prove. Here, I was simply a member. It was easy for me to grow very fond of them all, and it only fuelled my determination to protect them.

I found myself in Frodo's company often. We were much alike; quiet and fairly serious. We did not feel the need to fill our time with chatter, as Merry and Pippin did, happy to simply listen. Gimli too spoke often, and loudly. Frodo was much more unassuming. His endless kindness and selflessness was immediately obvious to me, and my heart ached to think of the burden such a pure soul had to bear. Sometimes he would get a look in his eyes that told of how he had already suffered more than he ever should have. I did not know the details of his journey to Imladris, but I knew that the Ringwraiths had stalked him there and that was enough.

Frodo, however, did not have the same dry sense of humour as I. Few people even knew I had one, but ever since the night I had stood with Legolas in Imladris it was clear that he not only recognised it, but shared it. One of the reasons I continued to address Aragorn so formally was because his reactions amused me so, and the fact that Legolas knew this made it even better. Legolas himself frequently wound Gimli into a fit of frustration with only a few innocently polite remarks, a flash of wicked mischief in his eyes that told me it was all intentional. He never did anything truly hurtful, of course. Often, we would meet each others gazes briefly in these moments and a sense of understanding would pass between us. Our own private joke.

It bemused me sometimes, how much more ready I was to smile among this Fellowship. My carefully cultivated severe façade was slipping, and I was not so sure it was a bad thing.

Of course, despite suddenly having gained these friends, Boromir and I walked beside each other for long periods of time. I enjoyed talking with him as I always had. Sometimes, though, it was if a darkness had settled on him – he would frown, face shadowed, and anything I said would cause him to snap in anger. Boromir's temper was infamous among the Guard, but it had never been unwarranted, and unlike his father he had ever been positive in the face of difficult times. Such a change in him worried me greatly.

.o0o.

We arrived at the Eregion Hills on our 14th day. We woke with the dawn, Sam settling down at the campfire to cook a meal. His protective nature over Frodo and his willingness to give up anything for him reminded me of myself; he had the heart to make an excellent Guardsman, if not the stature or the skill. I sat with Frodo, watching Boromir attempt to teach Pippin and Merry to use a sword in a companionable quiet as I braided my dark hair back from my face. The sky was clear, the air cold and crisp. Was it wrong to feel so content on such a journey?

"Get away from the blade, Pippin," Boromir instructed. He always had enjoyed teaching the new recuits, and I remembered a few of my own training sessions with him clearly. "On your toes...good, very good. I want you to react, not think."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Sam muttered into his pan. I suppressed my snort of amusement.

Sitting on an outcrop a little above us, Gimli had managed to corner Mithrandir and was discussing his opinion on the route. He'd been grumbling about it for a couple of days, talking about how much quicker it would be to go through Moria. I had heard of it, the legendary mine where the Dwarves lived in cavernous halls of stone. Gimli spoke of it's wonder, of the warm welcome we could receive from his cousin Balin. Mithrandir, however, appeared grave.

"No, Gimli. I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

"Do you think Gandalf is right to take this path?" Frodo questioned me, clearly also listening in. I could understand his doubt; the thought of Balin's hospitality was tempting and that Mithrandir sought so hard to avoid it was curious.

"I do not know enough of Moria to form my own decision," I told him, no longer watching the practise but Legolas instead. He was stood a distance away at the edge of the cliff, outlined against the sky as he gazed south. No doubt his elf eyes could see much of the land that the rest of us could not. "I have learnt, however, that Mithrandir is seldom wrong."

Our conversation was halted by Pippin's cry, and I turned my head in time to see both him and Merry throw down their swords as they kicked and lunged at Boromir.

"Get him, Pip!"

"For the shire!"

The look of complete surprise on Boromir's face was too much, and I shocked myself by laughing outright. I could almost hear Mithrandir rolling his eyes at their antics.

"Gentlemen, enough," Aragorn shook his head, smiling as he went over to break them apart. They succeeded in tackling him to the ground also, trapping his legs.

"Helwyn! Is it not your duty to aid me in battle?" Boromir called as he struggled.

"Forgive me, my Lord," I said, standing. My voice was hardly apologetic however; for once my amusement was plain. Unfortunately, my attempt at a rescue was interrupted by Sam, who was squinting up at the sky to the south as Legolas was.

"What is that?"

We all turned to look, spotting a distant patch of darkness that looked like flying smoke in the wind. Gimli shrugged it off.

"It's just a wisp of a cloud."

I frowned, unsatisfied with that explanation, "it's moving too fast."

"And against the wind," Boromir added.

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas yelled suddenly. The effect was instantaneous – the camp exploded into movement as we hurried to put out the fire and gather our belongings.

"Hide!" Aragorn called urgently.

I automatically reached out to catch Frodo's arm as he was closest to me, ducking under a nearby bush and covering him with my body. The others quickly disappeared also and the camp was deserted. Adrenaline from the sudden panic flooded my body and I fought to lie still, even holding my breath. I could only hope that such meagre cover was enough. Frodo and I both peered up through the branches, tracking the movement of the crows as they circled overhead, casting a shadow over the land.

It seemed to last an eternity. Finally there was a harsh croak and they wheeled away back to the south. I let out my breath.

Mithrandir staggered to his feet, "Spies of Saruman. The passage South is being watched."

I moved to rise, Legolas offering me his hand to help. His fingers were long and their callouses caught my skin as I took it, offering a nod of thanks. Once I was stable I turned to aid Frodo, trying to ignore the way my skin tingled from Legolas' touch.

Mithrandir and Aragorn exchanged a weighted look before Mithrandir addressed us all, "we must take the pass of Caradhras!"

.o0o.

I walked beside Boromir as we battled through mounds of snow. The temperature was raw and bitter, the wind whipping at my face with icy fingers. My cloak, wrapped tightly around me, offered little comfort. It was hard going, and I worried for the hobbits who struggled to wade through. I coped well enough, though the intense cold made it hurt to breathe.

"Does this not make you long for our Gondorian summers?" Boromir said a little breathlessly, pushing against a particularly high drift. Summer in Gondor was warm, especially in the South, where the sun burnt down upon the earth mercilessly. I raised my eyebrows a little, thinking of a patrol where Boromir had lamented quite the opposite.

"I recall you wishing for snow once, my Lord."

"Ah, I remember!" He managed to laugh, deep and rolling, despite our situation. "By the Valar, it was hot that week, even at night there was no relief. Nearly drove us mad, did it not, Helwyn?"

"It did, my Lord." It truly had been awful, our skin burning and the dry earth kicking up dust into our eyes and mouths. A band of Orcs had been spotted and we set out after them, our water supply gradually running low and our tempers running high. The trip home had been even worse, as I had received a wound to my calf and was forced to limp. Even Boromir did not leave unscathed.

"We tracked those cursed Orcs for days," Boromir mused, then sighed wistfully. "But we defeated them and our return was welcomed by the clear ringing of silver trumpets, the people of our city calling in the streets. Was it not magnificent?"

There was indeed nothing greater than returning to Minas Tirith triumphant, knowing the city was safe. "It was, my Lord."

"It will not be like that again, now Gondor is doomed."

I looked up at him sharply, taken aback by his tone. "It is still strong yet, my Lord."

"Gondor fails, while we carry it's only hope to destruction."

"We need no Ring to defeat our enemies, my Lord," I said firmly, my blood beginning to simmer in anger. "Do you not have faith in the men and women who defend our home? While there is breath in them, Gondor will not fall."

"You believe it?" He looked down at me, face hard and unreadable. I held my ground.

"I do, my Lord."

There was a clatter behind us, and we spun around to see Frodo tumbling backwards down the slope. Aragorn caught him, lifting him back to his feet. I moved to carry on once I knew Frodo was well, before realising that Boromir had stopped in place. The Ring dangled on it's chain from his fingers. I froze also, a deep sense of dread welling up inside of me.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," Boromir murmured, staring at it as if transfixed. My heart beat loudly in my ears. "Such a little thing..."

"Boromir, give the Ring back to Frodo," Aragorn said cautiously, approaching Boromir as if he were a wild animal. Frodo looked on, face pale and wary.

Boromir said nothing, continuing to stare with an odd look on his face. I knew not what to do, desperate to intervene but loath to question my Lord. Just as I was about to speak Boromir came back to himself suddenly, shaking his head and handing the Ring to Frodo with a light smile.

"As you wish. I care not."

He ruffled Frodo's hair and continued up the path. The dread did not leave me, for I knew that this was not the end. It was clear to me that Boromir was obsessed with the idea of the Ring, and I could only hope that he would be strong enough to overcome it. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Aragorn unhand his sword.

It was only then I realised that I was gripping mine also.

* * *

**I always thought that Legolas had a sense of humour, such as his competition with Gimli during the battles. I'm playing this up a little as I think it adds to his personality. And I just like it so.**

**I'm going by the time line of the books and trying to keep things as accurate as possible with place names etc, but if I get something wrong please do let me know.**

**Thanks for reviews!**

**B.**


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

* * *

It was not long before we were forced to turn back down the mountain and head for Moria.

Frodo was uneasy with his decision to go through the mine, no doubt because of Mithrandir's own reluctance. There was no other choice, however. Even Boromir had acknowledged that the Gap of Rohan would bring us too lose to Isenguard, though I doubted he was any happier about it.

It was night when Gimli gazed up at the looming cliffs above us, awestruck, and said, "the walls of Moria!"

We carried on around the shore of an inky lake, the footing treacherous on the narrow strip of green and greasy stones. Pippin kept slipping, though thankfully I managed to catch him every time. I was grateful when we finally stopped. Mithrandir reached out to touch the smooth rock wall and slowly faint lines like slender veins of luminous silver began to spread from his fingers through the stone.

"What is that?" I queried, feeling my own sense of wonderment at the sight. The moon rose over the mountains, large in the black sky, and the lines grew clearer and broader until they formed a glowing arch of interlacing ancient letters and symbols.

"Itiden," Mithrandir murmured. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight. This reads, "The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."

We all settled to wait as Mithrandir chanted inaudibly at the door, attempting to figure out the password. I helped Aragorn and Sam unpack the pony, which Sam seemed sadened to let go. I could understand; I was very fond of my own horse who I had been forced to leave in Minas Tirith because she was not suited to long distance travel, and the horse Boromir had given me for the journey was still at Imladris. Sometimes, the most comfort and friendship can be found in animals rather than fellow men.

Once the pony was gone I moved to lean back against the rock face beside Legolas, watching Merry and Pippin toss stones into the water, black ripples fanning out across it's surface. He wore a slight frown and for once his eyes were completely serious.

"Something troubles you," I said softly. He did not look at me, continuing to scan the area, but he tilted his head in my direction a little.

"I know not what," he replied, matching my hushed tone. "This place...it is shadowed. Can you not feel it also?"

As soon as he asked I knew what he meant. Goosebumps rose across my skin, the crawling sense of being watched settling over me. I shifted, uneasy. Ahead, Aragorn caught Pippin's arm mid-throw, his face ominous as he spoke to the halfling. The ripples in the water appeared to grow. I could not hear what he said but a shiver ran down my spine, unrelated to the cold. I searched for Boromir and we exchanged a look that told me he shared my misgivings.

"It's a riddle," over by the door, Frodo suddenly stood. "What's the Elvish word for friend?"

A look of comprehension dawned across Mithrandir's face. "Ah..._mellon."_

With that, the rock face silently divided down the middle and the great doors swung outwards, revealing a blackness deeper than the night. We gathered our belongings quickly, each of us eager to leave that lake, and stepped into the dank cavern beyond. It smelled of damp, the air thick and foul. Gimli was regaling Legolas of tales of the hospitality of the Dwarves, of malt beer and red meat off the bone, but as I peered into the darkness I had a terrible feeling that we would not experience such things here. Something crunched beneath my boot and I froze.

"And they call this place a mine," Gimli snorted. "A _mine!_"

Mithrandir tapped his staff against the floor, illuminating the chamber. I recoiled in horror. Rotting skeletons from an old battle were strewn about, their metal armour and shields rusting, many skewered with arrows. I looked down to see that I had stepped on a bone, reducing it to dust. Gimli cried out in anguish.

"This is no mine," Boromir said grimly, "it is a tomb."

Legolas wrenched one of the crude arrows free, "Goblins!"

We all tensed, reaching for our weapons. I wanted nothing more than to leave this cursed place.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here!" Boromir began backing towards the entrance. We followed without hesitation, none of us disagreeing with him. It was in vain, however, as Frodo let out a sharp cry and we spun to see a large tentacle dragging him back towards the lake. Merry and Pippin rushed to catch him, grabbing at his arms.

"Strider!" Frodo yelled desperately.

We ran from the cavern. I left Aragorn to free him as I aided Boromir in slicing at the other writhing limbs, managing to cut one just as it would have knocked him down. I ducked and dodged, but for every limb we hacked there as another two to take it's place. The water boiled as the beast rose up, lashing out viciously. A tentacle swept my legs from beneath me and I plunged beneath the surface of the lake even as Frodo cried out again, lifted high into the air. Water filled my lungs and swirled about my head, my palms scraping against razor-sharp stones as I attempted to regain my footing. Eventually I staggered to my feet, coughing and choking, sword in hand.

I was in time to see Aragorn cut through a limb, releasing Frodo who Boromir caught in his arms. We ran for the mine, slipping and stumbling. I continued to hack at the tentacles where I could, protecting Boromir who carried Frodo. No matter my efforts, it was clear that we would not make it in time.

"Legolas!" I shouted, and I knew he understood what I wanted when he drew his bow, shooting an arrow at the creature. I did not turn to look where it landed, but by the shrill scream of pain I could tell his aim had been true. The distraction rewarded us with a vital few seconds as we raced out of the lake and into the mine. I caught Legolas' hand as we passed and pulled him with me, slipping into the entrance just as the coiling arms of the beast seized the large doors and pulled.

With a shattering echo, the doors were ripped away and the cliff face crumbled, rocks cascading down to block the entrance. After a long moment there was silence, our panting breaths and the drip of water the only sounds in the darkness. I was soaked, lose strands of hair plastered across my face and droplets running into my eyes. Mithrandir lit is staff once more, casting a glow across our pale faces. We all looked bedraggled and worn.

"You are injured," Legolas said quietly from my side. He had raised the hand clasping his and was examining the torn skin of my palm, the blood diluted by the water. My other palm was much the same and my left knee was scraped also. The cuts stung, but it was not serious.

"It is nothing," I told him, glancing up to meet his gaze. His eyes glittered in the odd lighting.

"We now have but one choice; we must face the long dark of Moria." Mithrandir spoke gravely. In that moment he was not the old man who sat with me on the walls of Minas Tirith and asked after my family, but the ancient wizard who saw and knew so much. "Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world."

Nothing more was said as we advanced into the depths.

.o0o.

While Moria may once have been a joyous place, nothing of that remained. We trekked across precarious bridges over deep, deep mines where the machinery lay abandoned, through twisting corridors and up steep stairs. Everywhere were the skeletons of Dwarves, their graves despoiled by Goblin graffiti scrawled in dried Dwarf blood. It smelled of death, and I longed to see the sky again.

It took a long time for my clothes to dry, the cold seeping down to my bones. Boromir gave me his cloak to borrow and I accepted it without a fuss regardless of what etiquette demanded of me. We were a long way from the court at Minas Tirith here, and it would be far worse for me to become sick. I wrapped strips of cloth around my palms to prevent them from becoming infected and they were well on the way to healing nicely.

Mithrandir predicted that it would take us four days to reach the other side. We spoke little, the days of jesting and light-hearted conversations seemed long ago. The sinister atmosphere affected everyone; even Merry and Pippin were quiet. I could not help that we were balanced on the edge of a precipice, that from here on our journey would be very different. I could only hope it would be for the better, not worse.

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed when we came to a place where the path split into three tunnels. Mithrandir looked at each of them closely before shaking his had and admitting,

"I have no memory of this place."

We stopped to rest and wait, the mood lightening a little with Merry and Pippin's hushed chatter. I sat with Aragorn and we spoke at length, for he was interested in the workings of the Guard of Minas Tirith. He had been to the city before, even fought for it, but he had not had the chance to learn of the Guard in detail. Thankfully, it was a subject I could talk about for hours.

Finally, he said, "you were young, then, when you received you position? You mentioned that it usually takes many years of service to be chosen for Captain."

"Yes, my Lord," I answered uncomfortably, though his flinch caused a brief spark of amusement. It was not that I felt he was judging me, for his tone was only interested, but it was not a topic I liked to mention. In explantion, I added, "my father was a prominent member of the Guard before his retirement and I began my training young."

Boromir scoffed, "that is not the reason you are Captain and you know it!"

I resisted the urge to glower at him. By now everyone was listening in, their faces curious.

"Tell them of the Battle of Heron Hill," Boromir insisted. I shook my head,

"I do not think-"

"Oh, come on, Helwyn!" Merry begged. "We need a good tale in times such as this."

I sighed in defeat, knowing that Boromir would not let this go, even if the others did. If I did not tell it then he would, no doubt embellishing it beyond what it deserved. I could feel Legolas' eyes on me from where he stood a little way outside our circle. I disliked being the centre of so much attention.

"It is not so interesting," I cautioned them, ignoring Boromir's eye roll. When they continued to wait, I gave in and began.

"There had been reports of a band of Orcs nearby one of our largest villages. I was chosen along with fifty others by the Captain at the time, Dregomir, to accompany him in hunting them down. We tracked them to a field not even a day's march from the village, our aim to attack them in the morning when they would be weakened by the sun. I know not how, but they must have discovered our presence. They came upon us while it was still dark and we were unprepared, with numbers double our own."

"It was a slaughter. Dregomir was cut down almost immediately and our forces disintegrated into chaos. Many died that day...some only just passed their training..." I cleared my throat, focusing down at the hilt of my sword. The memories of that battle were harsh and painful. "If we failed they would reach the village, which was undefended. Innocent lives would be lost and I had sworn to protect the people of Gondor with my life. So I called the men to me, and they came."

I paused, because no matter how many times I recalled that moment I could never understand how I had managed to gather the terrified men to my side and convince them to fight once more. "We held on until the dawn and the Orcs were forced to retreat under the rays of the sun, but they were not defeated. I sent out a rider to Minis Tirith for reinforcements, knowing they would be able to return with a force by nightfall when the attack would resume. I did not think we would have to fight again, but by late afternoon clouds started rolling in and the sky turned black. I gave the order to fall back to the top of Heron Hill, flanked on two sides by forest so that any enemies could not surround us. I ordered a group of men into the forest to fetch wood which was sharpened into spikes and set up as defences.

The storm broke not long after, and the Orcs advanced. The wind was with us, carrying our arrows far into their ranks. Their own arrows fell short. The field was a basin, with higher ground on three sides, and quickly became saturating with the rain. It turned into a bog they could not wade through easily. Any Orcs that made it up the slope we cut down as they attempted to pass our wooden defences.

I know not how long we fought until our reinforcements arrived, circling behind the Orcs and swiftly winning the battle. I was given a Medal of Honour and appointed as Captain of the Guard once we arrived home in Minas Tirith."

I stopped speaking, mouth dry from talking so long. When they said nothing I raised my head, only to be stunned by their reactions. Borormir looked proud, as he always did when the tale was recounted, but the halflings all wore identical looks of awe and admiration. Even Aragorn was regarding me with great respect.

"Helwyn saved the lives of hundreds that day," Boromir boasted. "It is well that she is not as skilled in diplomacy at court as she is in winning battles, or my father would fear for his seat as Steward!"

My anger flared - did he think this was a tale of glory? Eight years gone and memories of that horrific day still haunted my dreams. The taste of death in the air, my hands on my hilt slick with the thick blood of Orcs, the sound of men screaming ringing in my ears. The carnage had been abominable and we could not even leave, forced to endure those hours of waiting surrounded by the stench of our fallen friends as their bodies lay in the dirt. Lacking sleep and supplies, despair so heavy in the air it was a physical weight, any hope of survival distant. No, there was no _glory _in battle.

It was not that I did not think what had been achieved that day was remarkable; we had survived against impossible odds and I would do it all again to save the lives of the villagers. I knew that my leadership had been vital, but it was the men who fought beside me who deserved the honour also. I knew that if I had not been there any one of them would have stood up in my place.

Aragorn's lips tilted up into a smile, "I did not know we travelled in the presence of a hero."

"A _hero?_" I exclaimed in shocked protest, before seeing the gentle teasing in his expression. Recompense for my use of titles, I was sure. It successfully derailed my ire and I was able to reply calmly, "I only did what any other would have done to protect what they love, my Lord."

"Perhaps, but any other would not have had the will to encourage defeated men to fight again, nor the foresight to retreat to a defensible position, nor the strength of courage to keep it," Legolas spoke up. I could not identify the emotion in his face, though there seemed to be respect mixed with several others. His gaze on me was fiercely intense and I was startled to find my face heating with a blush.

"Ah!"

We turned to Mithrandir, who had been speaking quietly with Frodo until his sudden outburst. He gestured to the right hand tunnel, "it's that way."

"He's remembered!" Merry enthused as we all scrambled to our feet. The atmosphere created by my tale was broken. I straightened my tunic and tightened my sword at my waist, relieved that I could retreat into my role as Guard once again.

"No," Mithrandir replied almost cheerfully. "But the air doesn't smell so foul down there. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose!"

* * *

**I hope Helwyn's story is not too long (and boring). I also hope she doesn't come across as a Mary-Sue.**

**All my thanks for the reviews.**

**B.**


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

* * *

We exited the tunnel through an arched doorway into a black and empty space. I could tell it was large by the feeling of the air – not so close and thick – but I could not see far in the dim lighting. Mithrandir paused,

"Let me risk a little more light..."

He tapped is staff, and for a brief moment the light blazed like a silent flash of lightning before settling again, reaching further this time. Far above our heads stretched a vast roof held by many mighty pillars hewn of stone that lined the endless empty wall before us, the walls black and polished smooth as glass. It was akin to nothing I had ever seen before, and I looked upon it with amazement. I turned to Boromir to share my wonder but his face was dark and hollow, so I turned away again without speaking, worried.

"Behold!" Mithrandir gestured, "The great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf!"

We moved through it, feeling small in such a huge space. I tried to imagine what it would have been like before it's fall, filled with Dwarves, but I found it impossible. At the other end we came across a wooden door that had been smashed open, arrows embedded in it's surface and two Goblin skeletons lying in the doorway. Gimli cried out suddenly in anguish, rushing forward into the chamber.

"Gimli!" Mithrandir called as we followed hurridly.

It was instantly clear what caused Gimli's outburst. The chamber was lit by a single shaft of sunlight beaming from a small hole in the roof, illuminating the piles of Dwarf and Goblin skeletons. There was a stone walled well in the far corner, but what caught out attention was the table in the middle of the room, topped with a great slab of white stone.

"No, no!" Gimli wailed with sorrow, dropping to his knees in front of it. I knew not what to do, offering comfort had never been a great strength of mine. It was perhaps best to simply let him mourn.

""Here lies Balin, son of Fudin, Lord of Moria."" Mithrandir translated the runes inscribed on the tomb. "He is dead, then. It's as I had feared."

Beside me, Legolas whispered anxiously to Aragorn, "we must move on, we cannot linger."

Mithrandir, however, was intently pursuing the rotting remians of a book splattered in dried blood. The pages cracked and broke as he opened it and read, ""They have taken the Bridge and the second hall: we have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long...the ground shakes...drums in the deep...we cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out...they are coming."

A cold shiver ran down my spine, the hair on the back of my neck rising. I did wished to leave as soon as we could, there was nothing good about this place. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Pippin back up against the well, knocking a precariously balanced skeleton tumbling in. I reached out, quickly grabbing his sleeve before he could follow, but the damaged had been done. We all froze in a stunned silence, listening as the armored skeleton crashed and clattered down, the echo ringing out loudly to notify all of our presence.

"Fool of a took!" Mithrandir raged, turning on Pippin angrily. The halfling shrunk back from him, face guilty. "Throw yourself in next time and rid of of your stupidity!"

I placed my hand on Pippin's shoulder to offer some reassurance, though I do not deny being angry at his mistake. A low, rolling boom rose from the depths below growing louder and louder, as if the caverns of Moria had turned into a drum. A great horn blasted, answered by several others nearby, and the sounds of running feet and harsh cries echoed.

"Mr. Frodo!" At Sam's worried words we all turned to see the frosty blue glow emanating from the scabbard of Frodo's sword. He drew Sting, staring at the blade.

Legolas frowned, "Orcs!"

Aragorn, Boromir and I ran to slam and wedge the doors shut, I just managing to pull Boromir back before an arrow lodged itself in his skull. He barely noticed, turning to Aragorn with shock in his eyes,

"They have a cave troll!"

I cursed, my heart beating wildly as adrenaline flooded my system. The familiar nervous thrill of battle settled on me. Gimli leapt onto the tomb, brandishing two Dwarf axes with a snarl.

"Let them come!" He yelled, voice raw with hatred. "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

There was no further time for conversation. The door burst open in a shower of wooden fragments and the Goblins fell upon us in a wave, swarming the chamber. I did not flinch, wading into the thick of them as I battled. My sword was not an object but an extension of my body, each swing and stab as natural to me as breathing. This was what I was comfortable with, this was my purpose - I had been born to handle a blade, and I flowed through the movements like water.

I made an effort to keep track of the others, just in case I was needed. Legolas was firing arrows in a desperate attempt to protect the halflings, while Aragorn struggled with the cave troll. It's club descended on him and I lunged forwards to slice my sword across it's arm, causing it to rear back spewing green blood. Aragorn caught my eyes for a moment, projecting his thanks, before we were swallowed up in the battle once again. Backed into the corner, Sam knocked down two Goblins with a swing of his saucepan.

I breathed heavily as I fought, the close quarters making the battle furious and intense. I cut a Goblin's head from it's shoulders, spun to avoid a strike from another, ducked under a swing from a third and managed to slice across it's stomach. I straightened, already twisting to face my next opponent, only to find it dropping with an arrow through it's eye. A split-second smile flickered across my face – _Legolas_.

"Aragorn! _Aragorn!"_

I paused, searching frantically for the origin of Frodo's call. My distraction earned me a slice across my cheekbone and I turned on the Goblin in a whirl of frustration, desperate to defeat him quickly so I would be free to aid Frodo. Even as the Goblin fell I knew I was too late; Sam yelled and I could only watch as the cave troll lifted Frodo off his feet by the tip of a spear and slammed him into the wall.

I was aware of nothing over the roaring in my ears – not the sound of Aragorn shouting, nor the battle-cries of the halflings as they leapt upon the troll and slashed at him with their swords. My world narrowed down to the enemies in front of me and I attacked them with ruthless determination until there were none left alive. An arrow from Legolas sent the troll finally toppling; dead. He had barely hit the ground before we were all rushing to Frodo's side. Aragorn reached him first, slumping next to his body. The halfling's face was ghostly.

"Valar, no!" I breathed, gazing down at him in sorrow.

There was a horror-filled silence for a moment, and then Frodo coughed and spluttered, taking a huge breath. The relief in the air was palpable. I sank back, allowing the other halflings to crowd their friend, though I took special interest when Frodo opened his shirt to reveal the shimmering silver vest beneath.

"Mithril!" Gimli crowed. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins!"

"As are all halflings it seems," I said, my chest filling with pride for them. "You all fought as bravely as any member of the Guard."

Their grins lightened my heart.

Our happy moment could not last long. The drums started again, ringing out through the mine. The race began; Mithrandir led the way as we ran for the bridge of Khazad-dum, Goblins scuttling down the pillars behind us like a thousand cockroaches. They were not the worst. The roar that filled the chamber thundered down to my bones and I turned to see a fiery light dancing across the stone. The Goblins melted back away into the shadows even more hurriedly than they had advanced.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir yelled above the cacophony of noise.

A huge shadow surrounded by flame fell across the hall, the ground shaking beneath our feet. Fear as I had never felt before rose up inside of me; it was pure terror, icy cold and all encompassing.

"A Balrog, a demon of the ancient world," Mithrandir replied. "Run! Quickly! This foe is beyond any of you!"

We needed no encouragement. I ran as fast as I was able, my muscles burning with effort and my lungs straining. Sam struggled, his pots and pans clanging, and I reached out to grip his hand tightly. It was as much a comfort to me as it was to aid him. I did not look behind, the heat on my back enough to tell me that our foe still followed.

We fled through an archway and out onto a dizzying stair, but did not hesitate to race down it despite it's height. Halfway down a gaping chasm opened where the stone had given out. Legolas leapt it with ease, followed by Mithrandir, and Boromir began the process of tossing the halflings across. I squeezed Sam's hand before releasing him. Gimli refused to be thrown and managed the jump only just, then Boromir was turning to me.

"Not before you, my Lord!" I protested. He opened his mouth to challenge me, but my firm expression halted him. With a shake of his head he went. Behind us the Balrog smashed through the wall, spreading it's vast wings. I jumped, suspended in the air for one heart-stopping moment before landing, my feet slipping on the edge. Legolas caught my hand, pulling me steady. My fingers shook with fright at my near-fall. Aragorn landed beside me, Frodo in his grip.

We ran on, down a hallway with fissures in the floor spitting flame and out over a slender bridge suspended over a bottomless pit. There was an archway in the distance – our exit – and I focused on it as I ran. It was only when we reached the far side that I realised Mithrandir was not with us.

He had stopped in the middle of the span, facing the Balrog; a huge creature of molten flame, a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire in one hand and a whip of many thongs in the other. Mithrandir held his own sword and staff aloft.

"You cannot pass!"

"Gandalf!" Frodo yelled, alarmed.

Mithrandir did not move, his voice ringing out, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!"

The beast put one foot on the bridge, raising itself to full height, wings spanning from wall-to-wall. Mithrandir was a tiny figure in comparison, balanced so precariously on that narrow strip of stone. I could barely breathe, so filled with horror was I.

"Go back to the shadow!" Mithrandir boomed. The Balrog brought down it's sword on him, but Mithrandir blocked it with his own. A shattering crash rang out as the Balrog's blade was reduced to molten fragments.

The Balrog placed another foot forward. Boromir, Aragorn and I dashed forwards, swords drawn.

Mithrandir cried out, thumping his staff down onto the bridge. "You shall not _pass!_"

A blinding sheet of white flame rose up, shattering the staff and breaking the stone away from under Balrog's feet. The great beast hung for a moment, suspended in the air, before plunging down into the gulf. There was a second of relief – and then I watched in terrible disbelief as the whip of fire rose up, the thongs curling around Mithrandir's knees. He was dragged backwards over the brink, clinging with his fingertips.

"Gandalf!" Frodo screamed.

Mithrandir looked at us, beloved face fierce, "fly, you fools!"

Then he let go.

.o0o.

The sun shone brightly as we tumbled out onto the grassy hillside. It burned my eyes, and I would blame that on why they watered. I had lost men many times before but Mithrandir...Mithrandir was an old friend. He had always been so timeless, so wise, a constant certainty in this changing world. It seemed impossible that he was gone.

Yet he was.

My cheek stung painfully, and when I reached up to touch it my fingers came away red with blood. I had forgotten about my wound.

"Legolas, get them up!" Aragorn demanded, nodding to the halflings who had sunk sobbing to the ground. His insensitive attitude stunned me.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir snapped, though his own voice was wavering. This was the Boromir I knew, the one who cared so deeply for others. My emotions in turmoil from Mithrandir's death, the thought of losing this Boromir to the darkness growing in him was suddenly unbearable.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien," Aragorn frowned at us. "Come, Boromir, Helwyn, Gimli, get them up. On your feet, Sam."

I clenched my jaw, "as you wish, _my Lord._"

He turned away sharply and I immediately felt ashamed for my harsh words. He spoke the truth, I knew he did for in the back of my mind it had occurred to me also. I simply felt too drained – the stress of the battle with the Goblins, our frantic fleeing from the mine and the loss of Mithrandir was too much all at once. The adrenaline and fear that had sustained me was falling away and I wanted nothing more than to rest and mourn.

"Come," Legolas said gently, placing his hand on my shoulder. I closed my eyes briefly, leaning into his strength for one selfish moment before I took a breath and helped Pippin to his feet. I ran my hand over his red-gold curls as the only comfort I could give. When Frodo joined us I could not look at the sheer devastation on his face.

"Lead us on, Aragorn," I said, meeting his infinite grey eyes and knowing he recognised this as my apology. He inclined his head, his face understanding, and then squared his shoulders as he stepped forth into the fading light.

We were the Fellowship of the Ring, and there would be no respite for us until our task was done.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

* * *

We stumbled on. I was sluggish and slow, weary to the bone. The wound on my face was a simple scratch that soon stopped bleeding, though I had a feeling it would scar. Only Legolas and Aragorn seem to retain boundless energy, unsurprising considering their Elvish blood. No-one spoke. I worried; for the halflings with their sorrowful expressions, and for Boromir who's own face was shadowed. It weighed down heavily on me, for I had sworn to protect these dearest friends and their pain was my own. If only they could have remained the bright and smiling halflings I had first met – still so new and innocent to the world! There was nothing I could do but reinforce my determination to see them home to their Shire again, when this journey was done.

Dusk had fallen by the time we reached the woods of Lothlorien. I was a little rejuvenated, for it was impossible to remain melancholy in the face of such beauty. We ran across the forest floor, strewn with yellow flowers, a shimmering roof of golden leaves above our heads. Even the trunks of the trees – those silent silver sentinels – were lovely to behold. While I absorbed the peace around me, Gimli looked on nervously.

"Stay close, young hobbits," he muttered. "they say a Sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell..."

I glanced to Legolas, to find he was already looking at me. The roll of his eyes was so subtle I almost missed it. As it was, I smothered the amused smile it brought to my lips.

"...And are never seen again!"

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam peered at Frodo anxiously, for his face had gone white and he hesitated. I frowned, surely he was aware of Gimli's exaggerations by now?

"Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily," Gimli carried on, oblivious. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!"

And he proceeded to nearly step face-first into the arrow aimed at his head.

The rest of us had already frozen, staring at the Elves who now surrounded us. They had melted from the trees so silently, I could not help but be impressed. If only my men of the Guard could achieve such a feat!

One of them stepped forward, the air of authority he wore marking him as the leader. He was broader than Legolas, though his hair was the same pale gold. His handsome face was more severe also, "the dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

I did not disagree, but bristled internally for my friend all the same. Gimli scowled but thankfully remained quiet.

The Elf looked to Legolas, who had drawn his own arrow in response and was now lowering it, "mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion."

"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien," he replied. His voice deliciously melodic as he spoke the Elvish words, and I could not help but imagine if it would be just as pleasant whispered across my skin. I buried the thought quickly; ashamed.

"Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen.," the elf continued, speaking to Aragorn now. I wished I understood what they were saying, though it did not bother me greatly. I was not the leader of this group and had no real need to take part in the greetings.

Aragorn bowed, "Haldir."

"Aragorn, these woods are perilous. We should go back," Gimli grumbled. The Elf, Haldir, looked down at him coolly.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back."

Aragorn drew him aside, engaging him in hushed conversation as we waited. As it was in Elvish I could not make it out, but Aragorn appeared to be explaining something to him. I turned my attention to Frodo, noting how pale he still was. He looked so lost, so alone. Mithrandir's death was undoubtedly difficult for him. I, who had lost men before, had my own methods of dealing with the pain; Frodo had no such methods.

Heart aching, I touched his shoulder, speaking softly to him when he met my gaze. "Mithrandir's death was not in vain and he would not have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden Frodo, do not carry the weight of the dead also."

We looked at each other for a long moment, and then Haldir was stepping up to us once more. He looked at Frodo, eyes steely.

"Come, She is waiting."

.o0o.

We travelled on for a time, before resting for several hours and rising again at dawn.

At one point Haldir led us to the top of a hill, and we all stared out in wonderment at the vista surrounding us. Several miles to the south another large hill rose out of the woods, and upon it stood many of the mighty mallorn trees, taller than any others. In their crown nestled a magnificent city, glowing gold, silver and green in the late afternoon sun.

"Behold!" Haldir gestured towards it. "Caras Galadhon, the heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

To the east of Caras Galadhon, the woods of Lorien ran down the the pale gleam of the great river Anduin. Beyond it, the flat, empty land was formless and vague until it rose again far away in the distance, a dark and dreary wall. The sun that lay on Lorien had not the power to enlighten the shadows there.

Elves came and went, speaking to Haldir before disappearing back into the trees. I grew curious as to how they protected their boarders; the Guardsman in me coming out full strength. For a while I hovered between my reluctance to approach him and my desire to learn, before I eventually scolded myself internally for acting like a child.

"Forgive me for the intrusion," I said, coming up beside Haldir while he was currently unoccupied. "I am Helwyn, daughter of Saluriel."

"Haldir, March Warden of Lothlorien," he returned, watching me with wary eyes. I inclined my head in respect,

"I am Captain of the Guard of Minas Tirith," I told him, refusing to be intimidated by his stern features. "I confess that because of this your guard of the boarder interests me."

"I see." His eyebrows rose, his tone condescending. "I supposed you wish for me to tell you the secrets of our defences."

"Not your secrets, no," I replied calmly."I ask you to tell me nothing you are not willing to share. I would greatly enjoy to learn of your methods, and I assure you I will not use them for anything other than simple reflection."

Haldir regarded me for a long moment, so long I became uncomfortable. I did not flinch away, however. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and said, "very well, let us talk."

Our conversation was more formal than friendly, but I had missed talks of strategy and I found it enjoyably stimulating. From the beginning of this journey I had been relying on Mithrandir and Aragorn to lead me, something I was not used to. Guarding, however, was my expertise. Despite this, I was glad to drift back to Legolas' side as we approached Caras Galadhon. As much as I admired Haldir, I found him to be overbearing at times.

"I am surprised Haldir talked with you so openly of the Wardens of Lothlorien," Legolas commented when I explained why I had been walking with the Elf.

"As am I," I admitted. "Perhaps it is because our positions are so similar."

"Perhaps," Legolas agreed. "Or perhaps the March Warden can secretly be swayed by the attention of a lovely maiden."

I looked up at him in shock, more surprised that he would suggest such a thing of Haldir than anything. Then I registered the mischief in his face. I shook my head at him, my smile clear, "do not tease me, Legolas."

"I would not dare," he said, mock-seriously, laughter dancing in his eyes. Somehow he knew exactly how to lighten my spirits, and I was sorely grateful to have him at my side. His presence was such an easy comfort to me.

Though I could not help but wonder if he truly thought me lovely.

.o0o.

We arrived at the city in the evening and were taken immediately to Lord Celeborn's chamber, up a winding stairway among the trees. The flet was wide and filled with soft light, the walls green and silver and the roof gold. Rising through the centre was a trunk of the mallorn tree. Lord Celeborn stepped forward to meet us when we entered; his hair was long and silver, his fair face grave, with no sign of age upon it. Beside him stood Galadriel, Lady of the Light. Her own hair was deep, flowing gold, her beauty timeless and unsurpassed. She was truly unearthly – in presence as well as looks.

Aragorn bowed his head reverently in greeting, the rest of us stared in awe.

"The Enemy knows you have entered here, what hope you had in secrecy is now gone." Celeborn said grimly. "Nine there are, yet ten set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him."

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land," Galadriel answered him in her voice of a thousand whispers. "He has fallen into shadow."

Legolas elaborated, looking pained, "he was taken by both Shadow and Flame, a Balrog of Morgoth, for we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose," Galadriel said gently. I felt my throat close up and was forced to blink away the wetness in my eyes. Galadriel continued, looking to Gimli now, "do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dum fill your heart, Gimli, son of Gloin, for the world has grown full of peril and in all lands love is now mingled with grief."

Gimli's face slackened into admiration, but I barely noticed. Galadriel was pinning Boromir with a piercing gaze, far from her previously soft countenance, until eventually he looked to his feet. I frowned anxiously, taking in his ashen face and trembling hands with distress. Galadriel's eyes flickered to me, and I felt the brush of something very old and powerful against my mind. I stiffened.

"_Your sense of duty does you credit, Helwyn, daughter of Saluriel." _Galadriel's voice echoed inside my head. "_But the future is dark and there are choices to be made. Do not let duty rule your judgement, for you will find that it means little when all loves are lost." _

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost," Celeborn spoke aloud. I took a breath, startled out of my reverie, staring at Galadriel with apprehension. Her words were cryptic and worried me more than ever. Legolas' fingers brushed briefly against the back of my hand, sensing my tension, and I forced myself to relax. I would have to think on her words later, when I was alone.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife, stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true." Galdriel smiled at Sam, her face luminous, and I now had a feeling that her words were a response to the turmoil in his mind. She spoke again, addressing all of us, "do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil.

Tonight you will sleep in peace."

* * *

**When I noticed the similarity between Helwyn and Haldir's positions I couldn't resist letting them have a little guard/warden nerd moment. **

**I hope that Helwyn and Legolas' romance is developing believably?**

**As always, the reviews really encourage me to keep writing and I am thankful for them.**

**B.**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

* * *

We were shown to a pavilion among the trees nearby a fountain. I was given a separate chamber where I could bathe, and I took great delight in washing the grime of Moria from my skin. It took a long while to disentangle my hair, which was dry and thin at the ends from neglect. I used my knife to carefully trim it, something I had been going for years, and then coated it in the oils the Elves had provided for me. Being a swordswoman did not mean I had no care for my appearance – I had just as much feminine pride as any other woman.

Once I was dry I dressed myself in the clean set of clothing provided for me. Tunic was deep green with gold edging, the leggings dark brown. Both were made of fabric softer and more luxurious than any I could have afforded in Minas Tirith. The tunic ran across my skin like silk, yet I had the feeling it was much more durable. I braided back my hair and strapped my sword back to my waist, then lingered for a moment to study myself in the delicate hand-held mirror that had been set down next to the bath.

I was not conventionally pretty. My narrow face was too severe – all angular and harsh, especially with my hair pulled back. Sharply arching brows set over deep-set eyes, the same dark brown as my hair, made me look too serious. I was striking, perhaps, but I was no beauty. I did not look like the ladies of court, with my skin tanned from a lifetime spent outside. Although my figure was slender, it was also athletic, with the kind of musculature needed to wield a sword.

Looking at my face now, I appeared particularly worn. There were dark circles beneath my eyes and an angry red line ran diagonally down across my right cheekbone – my wound from the battle in Moria. The Elves had rubbed a herbal slave across it and it was already well on it's way to being healed, but I would wear the scar for the rest of my life.

I set the mirror down again. The scar did not bother me; it was a small price to pay when I could have lost my life instead.

I re-entered the pavilion. The other members of the Fellowship were all seated, food and wine having been provided. The air was filled with singing; the voices of the Elves so painfully lovely as they drifted through the trees that I almost couldn't bear to listen. They wove a spell over the land, the emotion in their words deep and mournful.

"_Mithrandir, Mithrandir! A Randir Vithren!_  
_ú-reniathach i amar galen_  
_I reniad lín ne mór, nuithannen_  
_In gwidh ristennin, i fae narchannen_  
_I lach __Anor __ed ardhon gwannen_  
_Caled veleg, ethuiannen."_

"What do they say of him?" I asked Legolas, coming up beside him. When the halflings glanced at me curiously, I elaborated, "it is a lament for Gandalf."

"I have not the heart to tell you," Legolas shook his head, voice raw with pain. "For me the grief is still too near."

I sat down, close enough to him that I could press my shoulder against his in an offer of silent comfort. He leaned back, just slightly, and his warmth next to me eased the sorrow in my own soul. We listened for a moment, but gradually I found that it did seem right to me – certainly Mithrandir would have had no patience for this listless sadness. Eventually the pressure on me grew too great, and I had to break the heavy depression that had settled over us all.

"I was still a recruit when I first met Mithrandir," I blurted. The others turned to look a me, but I kept my gaze focused on the glittered golden leaves of the trees across from us. "My task was to guard the doors to Lord Denethor's Hall, and when Mithrandir arrived demanding entrance I refused. I thought him a mad old man, in those ragged grey robs of his."

Merry's eyes widened comically. "You refused _Gandalf?"_

"And he cursed me for it, I assure you," I said with a smile. "It was only when the Captain arrived that I was informed of who he was. I later sought him out to apologise, though I greatly feared his anger."

"What did he do?" Pippin queried, clearly horrified at the thought of facing Mithrandir's wrath. I softened with the memory of it.

"He said I was an ignorant fool, but that at least my dedication was admirable."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows, amused. "High praise indeed."

"From Mithrandir, certainly," I replied, with equal laughter in my voice. We were quiet for a moment, though this time it was lighter as we each remembered our favourite memories of Mithrandir fondly.

"I bet they don't mention his fireworks," Sam grumbled, speaking of the Elves' continuing song. "There should be a verse about them."

He stood suddenly, "The finest rockets ever seen  
They burst in stars of blue and green  
Or after thunder, silver showers…"

Aragorn shoved Gimli, who was pretending to snore as Sam struggled to find the words.

"...Came falling like a...rain of flowers!" Sam sat down with a huff of irritation. "Oh, that doesn't do them justice by a long road."

I was barely listening, for I had turned to look for Boromir and found him sitting apart from us, alone. The moonlight caught the trace of tears on his face. Alarmed, I half-rose to go to him, but Aragorn caught my eye and shook his head. He went to him instead, and I forced myself to look away as they conversed.

Despite the comfort of our surroundings, I could find no peace that night. The look of despair on Boromir's face haunted me.

.o0o.

We spent several weeks in Lothlorien. I occupied myself by either wandering the city alone, enjoying this rare solitude, or with Legolas. It had happened almost by accident – we had drifted together, drawn by our mutual love of peace and quiet where others in out company enjoyed constant chatter. We were not always silent; indeed, we spoke at length on many things; our likes and dislikes, our worries, our dreams for the future before all this had happened. I shared more with Legolas those days than I had with anyone, save perhaps Mithrandir.

One afternoon I made my way to the archery field, where I knew I would find him. I did not enter right away, leaning against the trunk of a tree so I could admire him as he pulled back the bow. He moved so gracefully, the muscles of his shoulders shifting smoothly, his face fiercely concentrated. The sight of it left my mouth dry. The consequence of spending so much time with him – I was suddenly aware of how very male he was, and I found myself desiring him in a way I had not previously. I had been attracted to men before and I was not so foolish as to deny it to myself, but my want for Legolas seemed much more dangerous. It came not only from his looks, though he was magnificent, but from his intelligence and kindness and sense of humour also. Such feelings did not fade so easily as a brief physical attraction.

Once he had finished – shooting the arrows with such speed and accuracy that it left me breathless – we wandered down to the gardens where we settled on the grass, surrounded by flowers. They bloomed even in the winter, bright and cheerful, due to Lady Galadriel's magic. The air was filled with their scent. I watched lazily as the sunlight turned Legolas' pale hair into golden, liquid light, curbing the urge to run my hands through it's silken length and trace the braids at his temple. Archer's braids, he'd told me, to prevent wayward strands getting caught in the bow.

"What is it you miss most, from your home?" He asked me after a time. I paused, fingering the petals of a rich, purple tulip as I thought.

"Wilwarin, my horse," I answered finally.

"Butterfly?" Legolas raised his eyebrows a little, translating the Elvish word.

"She is a mighty warhorse who leads fearlessly into battle and would gladly trample any foe," I said, shooting him a wry glance. "I thought the name appropriate."

He grinned and I drank in the sight eagerly. After a moment his expression turned curious, "you do not miss your family most? A husband, perhaps?"

"A husband?" I exclaimed, startled. The very thought was unfathomable. "No, I have no husband, or anyone of the like. As for my family, I do miss them, but I am used to being parted from them. Wilwarin has been my constant companion since I earned my position as a guard."

Legolas nodded in understanding. I tilted my head, now also intrigued, "what of you?"

"I have no bonded mate." He said before sighing, "and I do not miss my father greatly, for we have not been close for many years. He is often too busy at court and my duty lay elsewhere in Mirkwood."

"What is it your father does?" I frowned, for it did not seemed right to me that someone such as Legolas should be anything other than loved. He face was reluctance.

"My father," Legolas said slowly, as if he was being careful with his words, eyes focused on mine intently. "Is Lord of the Woodland Realm."

For a moment I was speechless, unable to comprehend it, and I abruptly tensed up. "You are a Prince?"

"Formally, yes."

My mind reeled. He was a Prince - who I had been calling by his given name, who I had been so familiar with! It was against everything I had been taught growing up, and I was horrified by my lack of manners.

"My Lord, I-"

"-Don't," Legolas interrupted me, and I was stunned by the sharpness of his tone. His eyes were hard on mine. "Do not retreat behind your titles and your formalities. Not with me."

I hesitated, torn. "But I-"

"Aragorn does not," Legolas pointed out, cutting me off again. I shook my head.

"Aragorn is a King himself."

"The hobbits do not either," Legolas continued, unwavering. "I am not your ruler, Helwyn. I am your friend, as I have always been."

Could he not understand that he was so far above me it simply was not right for me to treat him as my equal? As I looked at him, though, I did not see a Prince – I saw Legolas, who had fought beside me, who had comforted and joked with me, who had shared parts of himself with me these days we had spent together. He would never be just a Prince to me.

I slumped, defeated, "my mother would be beside herself at my behaviour."

Legolas laughed, all the hardness in his face erased, and I was glad.

.o0o.

I wished for our time in Lothlorien to last forever, even as I knew it could not be so. Mordor's darkness grew with every day, and so preparations soon began for our departure. The happiness I had felt in the gardens with Legolas slowly evaporated as I took in the hollowness of Boromir's face and Frodo's troubled eyes. Both seemed haunted by problems I could not hope to fathom. I did my best, focusing my efforts on cheering Boromir as much as I could, though I fear that it was not enough. I could only hope that Sam faired better with Frodo.

The time came to leave, and again we stood before the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien. Each of us was given an Elven cloak woven from fabric of soft grey, held by a clasp at our throats in the form of a leaf. Lady Galadriel spoke to everyone in turn – Legolas received a bow of the Galadhrim, Merry and Pippin daggers of the Noldorin, and Sam Elven rope. I missed what she gift she had for Gimli, though it made him beam with pride and adoration.

When Galadriel came before me she simply smiled, and said, "I have no gift for you, Helwyn. Your greatest desire is to protect the ones you love, and there is nothing better I can give you for that than your own courage and determination. All I offer is my advice, and I hope that you will heed it."

The words she spoke on our first meeting flitted through my mind, "_do not let duty rule your judgement."_

I bowed to her, "I will endeavour to do so. Thank you, my Lady."

I moved away as she turned to Aragorn, for I sensed that it was not something for me to hear. Instead I joined Boromir in loading the supplies into the boats. The dawn was bright and calm, and I gazed down the Silverlode river as if I could somehow see our destination in the distance. It would later join the Anduin and we would follow that to the Falls of Rauros. If luck was with us we would outrun the creatures who tracked us on the western back while avoiding the Orcs of Mordor who held the eastern shore.

Our journey had begun once again, and with every league south we travelled the danger would only increase.

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**Thank you so much for the reviews, it means a lot.**

**B.**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

**Hopefully I do this justice.**

* * *

The journey down the Anduin was quiet and anxious. All of us were on edge, the air heavy with tension. There was little to say, for all of us knew what danger shadowed our steps.

In light of the pre-dawn, we emerged from a steep, rocky gorge to be faced with the Pillars of the Kings. The enormous rock statues carved out of the mountain, mirroring the Gondorian Kings of old. Their left arms were held aloft, facing outwards in a gesture of warning. My breath caught as they loomed over us with ancient majesty. These were my Kings from the time when Gondor's greatness was at it's peak. I shivered, strangely moved by the beauty of these silent sentinels. I turned to Boromir, who's gaze was focused down at his feet.

"My Lord, look, it is the Argonath."

Boromir scowled, waving a hand dismissively, "and what do I care for them?"

I blinked at his attitude, then frowned, "they are our ancestors, my Lord. Surely we owe them our respect, and our -"

"Oh, spare me the lecture, Helwyn!" Boromir snapped harshly. I closed my mouth, stunned. He had never spoken so sharply to me, when I had done nothing at all to warrant it. I suppose it was unsurprising, his mood had been foul since leaving Lothlorien.

"Forgive me, my Lord," I said calmly. "I only sought to lighten your spirits -"

"Lighten my spirits?" Boromir laughed, but it was bitter. "Do you think me a child, whose moods can be improved by some pretty scenery?"

"Of course I do not, my Lord," I reassured, perplexed, his sudden ire staggering. The other members of the Fellowship had noticed now and shifted uncomfortably, particularly Aragorn, Frodo and Sam, who shared our boat.

"Of course you do not," Boromir smirked nastily. "That is why you continuously hover over me, subjecting me to your weak attempts at offering comfort, no matter that they are unwanted."

The words cut me deeper than any physical word. I bowed my head, "you must understand, my Lord, that it is only because of my care for you -"

"I must understand nothing!" He exclaimed, voice only just restrained from a shout in his anger. I closed my eyes, cursing myself for my poorly chosen words.

Aragorn reached out, laying a hand on Boromir's shoulder in an effort to soothe the situation, "Boromir -"

"No!" Boromir shrugged him off and gazed down at me, eyes ablaze. "In the very beginning you swore your loyalty to this Fellowship with no permission from me, when it is me who you are bound to by oath, and since then your impertinance has only worsened! Remember, Helwyn, that you carry no title and no position, save for in service to my family. Do not presume to tell me what to do, or to act as if you know me as an equal."

"I will not, my Lord. I beg your pardon," I did not look at him, could not, when I felt such hurt. I could not understand where his vehemence came from so suddenly – ever had Boromir supported me, had spoken of my achievements with such pride. On our journey to Imladris he had talked with me openly and freely. Had we not been friends? The sudden nature of his ire did not mean that his words were not true, however. No other guard would offer comfort to their Lord, as if they were somehow privy to their feelings. And had I not stepped forward at Elrond's Council before Boromir, pledging myself to Frodo, perhaps forcing Boromir to follow? It was not my place to make such decisions for Gondor.

I was a grown woman, a warrior in my own right, and yet Boromir could make me feel as small as a child.

We pulled up on the wooded shore of Nen Hithoel once day had broken. I looked at no-one as I aided them in setting up camp, unable to bear the pity on their faces. I was humiliated, knowing they had heard every word.

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot," Aragorn instructed. "We approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh, yes?" Gimli looked gloomy, "just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks. And after that gets even better!"

Pippin looked up, alarmed.

"A festering, stinking marshland, far as the eye can see!"

I said nothing, for once ignoring them all. I set out my bedroll far away from Boromir's, but other than that I did not bother to seek him out and check on him. It was clear to me that he neither wanted nor needed my company.

"We must leave now," Legolas was saying urgently to Aragorn close by, while the others went about their tasks. I focused on reorganising my pack.

Aragorn shook his head, "no. Orcs patrol the eastern shore, we must wait for the cover of darkness."

"It is not the Eastern shore that worries me!" Legolas pressed. I slowed my movements, listening more intently now. Legolas did not worry over nothing, so whatever bothered him must be serious. "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it."

His words were ominous. I cast a glance into the Parth Galen forest we camped beside, my skin crawling. Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a knowing look, and all of my hurt feelings were washed away. An argument between Boromir and I mattered little when there were such serious threats to us. I jumped a little when Merry clattered back into camp, dumping a pile of kindling at Gimli's feet and looking around curiously,

"Where's Frodo?"

Sam sat up with a start, previously being asleep. Aragorn's head snapped around, face filling with horror at his realisation. I had already seen it – Boromir's shield lying abandoned by his camp bed and Frodo nowhere in sight.

I moved in a flash, rolling from my bed roll and snatching up my sword in one smooth movement. Panic filled me as I fumbled with the clasp at my waist. Aragorn reached out,

"Helwyn -"

"No!" I whirled on him, face set. "I must find him, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded. I did not wait for them to gather their weapons, racing off into the woods. Leaves crunched under my feet, branches whipping at my face. I did not know where to go, and so I searched wildly. The cold air stung my lungs and my heart was beating hard in my chest, though more from anxiety than physical effort.

"Boromir!" I yelled desperately, my voice echoing through the trees. "Boromir, please!"

There was no answer, not from Boromir. I heard the thunder of feet before I saw them, swarming through the trees. Huge Orc-like creatures with the stamp of the white-hand on their forehead. I drew my sword, unafraid even as I face them alone. Somewhere in these woods were my friends, and I would take down as many of Saruman's monsters as I could for their sakes.

They came down upon me, snarling and vicious. I fought hard, darting between trees, using the landscape to my advantage as much as possible. Their skin was thick as I attempted to cut through it, the stench of their breath in my face foul. I swung my blade, slicing through the neck of my opponent, black blood splattering across my face. There were too many, and I was quickly surrounded. Knowing I could not hold out much longer, I called again,

"Boromir! _Boromir!"_

"Helwyn!" An arrow thudded into a beast who had been coming up behind me. I spun, seeing Legolas sliding down the slope towards me. He was a sight to behold, using his arrows as hand-held weapons when an enemy got to close, before switching seamlessly back to using his bow. He took down three opponents in a blur of motion, his grace and speed was unmatched. He was a truly magnificent warrior. Gimli followed with a battle cry, wielding his axe with deadly accuracy, Aragorn not far behind. We fought though the mass of enemies to reach each other.

"Frodo -?" I managed to ask, twisting to cut the arm from a beast lunging for Legolas' back.

"Away," he answered, slipping behind me to ram an arrow through an opponent's throat. Relief flooded me – at least dear Frodo was safe. We four fought together, battling out way back towards the boats.

The blast of a horn rang out.

I knew that sound. It flooded my veins with icy fear.

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas called, but I was already moving towards it, cutting through my enemies with a renewed ferocity in my single-minded determination to reach Boromir. A tree root caught my foot and I stumbled, though I quickly regained my fooing. Behind me, Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn acted as a rear guard, though I scarcely noticed. All I could think of was that I should have been at Boromir's side – I should seen him leave the camp, if not for my stupid feelings. I had failed my duty so drastically, how could I claim to be a guard again?

I burst into a clearing, seeing Boromir on his knees filled with arrows, a beast standing over him with another aimed at his heart. Rage surged through me, hot and bright. I reacted instinctively, smashing the bow from the beast's hand. It turned on me then, but I was ready. That it was much bigger and strong than I mattered little, for I attacked it with wild intensity, my anger fuelling me. I fought as I had never fought before, nearly savage.

"Help him!" I shouted to my friends, knowing they would understand as I kicked my boot into the beast's knee, snapping it. It howled in pain but did not yield, bearing it's teeth as it came forward again. I did not flinch, blocking his blow and twisting my blade, wrenching his own sword from his grasp and sending it skittering across the ground. It stumbled, I slammed the hilt of my sword into it's nose, breaking it in a spurt of black blood, and the beast fell sprawling across the ground. I stepped over it, looking down into it's twisted features, and thrust my blade through it's heart.

The battle over, all energy drained from me. I turned and lurched to where Boromir lay, surrounded by the bodies of at least twenty beasts, Aragorn at his side. The horn lay on the ground, cloven in two. One look at Aragorn's face and I knew there was nothing to be done. I sank to my knees, trembling.

"_Boromir_," I said, voice strangled, a lump forming in my throat. He looked up at me, blue eyes clear for the first time in weeks, even as his skin turned ashen and grey. "Forgive me, oh, Valar, forgive me. I have failed you."

"You have never failed me," he rasped, reaching out a hand. I clasped it in both of mine, fingers shaking.

"It was my duty...my _duty, _to protect you and I -" I broke off, struggling for a long moment. In the end it did not matter if the fault was mine; he was dying, regardless. My vision blurred and I blinked furiously to clear it, wanting to see his beloved face when I finally spoke.

"My Lord, I would have stayed by your side until the end."

"I know," Boromir said, face soft, before he gripped my fingers tighter in his urgency. "Helwyn, my words – what I said – you know I did not mean them, you _know _I did not – "

He coughed wetly, blood bubbling from his lips and dripping down his chin.

"I know, Boromir, I know -" my voice broke again as I choked on my tears. In truth I had already forgotten them, even had I not known they were caused by the Ring's influence I would have dismissed them as soon as I heard the horn.

"You represent Gondor now. You must fulfil our oath," Boromir reached up with his free hand to touch my cheek, eyes sad and distant. "You will do it better than I, my friend."

He sank back, taking his sword when Aragorn placed the hilt into his hand. Looking up into the face of Isildur's heir, Boromir said, "I would have followed you, my brother, my captain...my King."

Aragorn nodded, sorrowful. Boromir relaxed with a sigh of breath, then his eyes faded and his grip slackened in mine.

Boromir, son of Denethor, was dead.

"Oh, Valar, no!" I moaned quietly in anguish, crumpling forwards to hide my face in my knees. "_No, _no, no..."

I pressed the hand still held in both of mine to my lips, the skin rough and real. Silent tears leaked from my closed eyes and ran down my nose.

"..._please,_ no..."

No-one moved to comfort me, and I was grateful.

There were no words to express the depth of my grief, and of my pain.

.o0o.

We lay Boromir's body in one of the boats, his arms folded across his chest over his sword, face pale and lifeless. The broken horn was placed beside him, his shield above his head. I had removed his gauntlets bearing the White Tree of Gondor and had given them to Aragorn, who now wore them in his honour. My tears had not lasted long. Crying would not bring back those lost, and I still had a duty to perform.

I would not fail Boromir again.

"Be at peace, son of Gondor," Aragorn said, touching his hand to Boromir's forehead in a sign of respect and pushing the boat adrift. I watched numbly, standing apart from the others, as it moved swiftly over the water. There was an emptiness in me that could not be filled. Finally, it dropped over the edge of the massive falls of Rauros and into the unknown.

I did not, could not, move.

"They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return," I spoke to Legolas as he came up behind me. He did not reach out to me, simply standing close so that I could feel the warmth of his presence. It was enough.

"You loved him," he murmured quietly.

I swallowed the emotions down. "Yes. As my brother."

We stood together as long as we could, but eventually Legolas brushed his fingers against mine and turned away.

"If we are quick, we will catch Frodo and Sam before nightfall," he called to Aragorn, already moving towards the boats. When Aragorn said nothing, simply looking the the lone boat on the far shore and the tiny halflings disappearing into the forest, Legolas slowed.

"You mean not to follow them," he realised.

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn confirmed.

Gimli threw up his arms, "then it has all been in vain! The Fellowship has failed!"

"Not if we hold true to each other," Aragorn looked at each of us in turn. I stepped over to them, completing the circle. It was clear to me, then, that the Fellowship was not broken. We were still here, still fighting for Frodo, for all of Arda. Surrounded by my friends, my heart swelled with love for them. The loss of Boromir would lay heavily on my soul, for I would always miss him, but I was not defeated. I would remember him fondly and I would _live_.

"We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, not while there is strength left in us yet," Aragorn continued, voice hard and firm. He moved away from us to pull a hunting knife from his pack and strap it on.

"Leave all that can be spared behind, we travel light," the glint in his eyes was steely, his face grim. "Let's hunt some Orc."

"Yes!" Gimli crowed.

He and Legolas grinned. I allowed myself to join in – wholly, fully, unreserved. The thrill of the chase surged through me; I did not hesitate to bound after them into the woods.

Boromir was gone, but he would live on in the hearts and the memoires of those who had cared for him. Life cannot be changed or halted, though sometimes we wish it so. All we can do is make the best of what we are given.

The time for mourning had passed.

Now was the time to fight.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

* * *

The beasts we tracked were Uruk-hai, or so Aragorn told us.

I stood, hands on hips as I surveyed the landscape where we rested, panting to catch my breath. Gimli breathed equally hard beside me. We were not made for such physical efforts, he and I. I had initially faired better, my stature having an advantage over Gimli's own short, stout one, but being only human meant I too soon felt the effort.

Aragorn lay a few paces away, his ear pressed to the turf as he listened intently. Legolas was a little farther still, showing no signs of any physical effort at all. I cursed him internally even as I admired the figure he made; tall and lean, poised on a rock with his pale hair tossing in the wind.

"Their pace has quickened." Aragorn frowned, "they must have caught our scent. Hurry!"

He leapt up once again, leading the way with long, loping strides. I closed my eyes in a silent groan, the stitch in my side twinging.

"Come, Gimli, Helwyn," Legolas called to us as he followed, settling into his fast pace with ease. I paused, waiting for Gimli to gather himself together with a huff, before I coaxed my aching muscles into movement.

"Three days and nights pursuit. No food. No rest. And no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell," he grumbled irritably as we set off.

"Save your breath, my friend," I managed between puffs. "We will curse them when this is over, I assure you."

"Aye!"

We ran on, across hills and plains and high, rocky places. I was glad for the physical demands of my position, for if I had not already been used to such things it would have been impossible for me to keep up. As it was I had to eat while we ran, unlike the others. I could not have carried on for so long on an empty stomach. Feet throbbing, I thought longingly of my chestnut mare, Wilwarin, and the ease of riding her.

I jogged down a slope into a shallow gorge, to find Legolas and Aragorn had halted up ahead. Aragorn was crouched to the ground, examining something.

"What is it?" I questioned once I was close enough, taking the time for a brief rest. Aragorn extended his hand out to me, displaying a green and silver Elven broach that matched our own.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall," he said.

"They may yet be alive," Legolas realised, the same hope that had risen within me reflected in his eyes. The determination to rescue Merry and Pippin was what had truly sustained me over the miles we had travelled – it was what drove me to force myself on, even when my body was on the verge of collapse. That there was proof they still survived filled me with energy once more.

"Less than a day ahead of us," Aragorn murmured, almost to himself, before rising swiftly. "Come!"

Our leader set off once again. Legolas studied me, concerned, "do you need to rest longer?"

Though I knew he only asked out of care for my well-being, the question caused my pride to flare. I set my jaw, "I can manage."

He took no offence despite my bad attitude, stepping forward to put his hand on my shoulder. "I have no doubts that you can, but do not needlessly push yourself. ."

"We cannot afford the time," I insisted stubbornly, forcing my tone to be less abrasive. He was not at fault, after all, and was only trying to help. Regardless, I could not back down from this. The longer we took to reach them the more likely it was we wouldn't find the halflings alive.

"We will find them, Helwyn." Legolas' face softened and he continuing gently, "you will not lose anyone else."

I turned my head away, unsettled with his apparent ability to read my emotions so easily. The fear of losing Merry and Pippin, as I had lost Mithrandir and Boromir, burned inside of me like a poison. My whole existence had been focused around protection, and yet now I was failing so drastically to protect those I loved. I had to hold on to what I had left to me; and that meant doing all I could to save my halfling friends.

"We are falling behind," was all I said, watching Aragorn's moving figure rather than looking at the Elf in front of me. Legolas sighed, removing his hand. My shoulder felt oddly cold without it. I shrugged off the feeling with irritation. My attraction to Legolas was a complication I did not want or need.

"Come, Gimli!" He called as Gimli stumbled from behind some rocks and rolled down the slope. "We are gaining on them!"

I took off without waiting for them. Behind me Gimli spoke further, about Dwarves and sprinters, but I was not listening. All that I had known was crumbling around me, with Boromir's death I was cast adrift. I had no purpose anymore. I had come on this journey to protect my Lord, and with his passing duty demanded that I return to Gondor and take up my position once again. It had not even occurred to me back at the river. How could I return, when there was still so much left to be done here?

Galadriel's words came back to me; "_do not let duty rule your judgement."_ I had not, yet I did not know if I was correct in doing so. Was this the moment she had spoken of, or was there another choice I would face in time? In continuing on I had effectively broken my first oath – my oath of service to Gondor – and all but forfeited my position as Captain of the Guard. Lord Denethor would view me as a traitor, of this I had no doubt. All I had left was what I had sworn back in Imladris, and I clung to that fiercely.

I would protect what was left of this Fellowship with my life.

.o0o.

"Rohan, home of the Horse-Lords," Aragorn said as we came over a hill and paused at it's summit.

Grass plains stretched out before me, green and rolling, against the backdrop of a vast blue sky. A cold wind whipped at my face and clothes. I felt so small in such an open, empty space – so insignificant in the whole scheme of Arda. Who was I, such an ordinary human, to go against the powerful force that was Sauron? Yet Frodo, no bigger than a child and without even the skill in battle I possessed, was travelling straight into the heart of Sauron's domain. And I believed in him completely.

In the end it mattered little who you were, as long as you defended that which you cared about. While there was still resistance, small or otherwise, the enemy could not win.

"There is something strange at work here," Aragorn continued, thoughtful. "Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets it's will against us."

He turned, squinting against the sun to where Legolas stood ahead of us scanning the distance. I did not look, busying myself with drinking what little water I had left, my strength flagging. I refused to admit that I was avoiding him, however.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called. "What do your Elf-eyes see?"

"The Uruks turn northeast," Legolas replied, voice carried on the wind. "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

Aragorn met my gaze, face grim as I spoke our thoughts aloud,

"_Saruman."_

.o0o.

Dawn rose, staining the sky pink at our backs.

"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night," Legolas frowned. No-one commented on his ominous words, though we all felt the worry they brought.

We pressed on into the morning.

.o0o.

Aragorn had paused to study tracks on the ground when we heard the sound of horse hooves thundering across the ground. We froze for a moment, then Aragorn beckoned us to duck behind a grouping of rocks. We crouched there, hidden, as a large group of horse-men galloped passed, their banners flying. Pressed close as we were, I could feel the heat of Legolas' breath on the back of my neck. He smelled of fresh air and earth. I wanted to lean back against him, feeling his strength, but resisted the urge. No doubt he would have thought me mad if I had, and imaging it caused me a wry spark of amusement.

Aragorn stepped out, us following behind, shouting after the horses, "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"

I watched with something akin to astonishment as the rider in the lead raised his spear, and the group turned in perfect unison to charge back towards us. Even as they surrounded us in ever-tightening circles, I had to admire their horsemanship. Their mounts obeyed their orders seamlessly, as if they shared the same thoughts. The settled at last, spears pointed close to us. The leader rode forewards from the crowd – a broad man, with a mane of tangled golden waves and armour of red and gold that had clearly seen many years of use. A helmet covered his face.

"What business does an Elf, a man, a woman and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" He demanded, his voice deep and rough. I rose my eyebrows at his rudeness.

"Give us your name, horse-master, and we shall give you ours," I replied, reasonably. I did not like conversing with a man I did not know, when his reactions were hidden by his helm. Especially from such a vulnerable position.

He handed over his spear and swung down from his horse, covering the few paces to stand before me. I was thankful that I was tall and he could not tower over me, though he had at least a head of extra height. I did not flinch, for he did not intimidate me. I had faced far scarier things than this man. He sneered,

"I would cut off your head, lady, were you worth the effort of cleaning my sword."

There was a rush of air next to my ear as Legolas drew an arrow at lightening speed and aimed it to the man's head.

"You would die before your stroke fell."

The cold tone of his voice startled me, for I had never heard Legolas sound so hostile, as did the thought that he would react so strongly in my defence. Rather than take offence, however, I found myself softening. I could not be affronted since I knew he did not doubt my capabilities, this was simply yet more evidence of his care for me. I regretted that I had spoken to him so shortly, and avoided him since, because of my poor mood.

Aragorn reached out, lowering Legolas' arm. The tense atmosphere relaxed a little. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and Helwyn, daughter of Saluriel."

"I meant no offence," I said truthfully, attempting to make amends. "We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your King."

"Theoden no longer remembers friend from foe," the rider removed his helmet,motioning for the spears to be raised. "Not even his own kin."

From his words I guessed he was either Eomer, the King's nephew, or Theodred, the King's son. Both I had learned of in Gondor, as it was important to know of you allies, but I had never met them. Without his helmet his name of hair was even wilder, framing a noble face with a scruffy beard and a stern expression. He was striking, ruggedly handsome in a way that was purely masculine. He was the kind of man I had always been attracted to, and yet compared to Legolas I now found him lacking. I was truly hopeless.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and claimed Lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. For that, we are banished," he continued gravely. I suddenly understood his abrasive attitude – he had been forced to leave his home, possibly to it's ruin. For a man who had probably fought to defend it for years this would be hard to bear. It was small wonder his mood was sour. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. Everywhere, his spies slip past our nets."

"We are no spires," Aragorn raised his hands, placating. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."

The rider answered firmly, "the Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

We all paused for a moment, registering this information with shared horror.

"There were two hobbits," Gimli questioned desperately, "did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They'd be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn added.

"We left none alive," the rider's face remained hard, but he sounded honestly apologetic in his answer. "We piled the carcasses and burned them."

I followed his gesture to see a column of smoke rising in the distance, a black smudge against the sky. I was forced to clamp down on my rising horror.

"Dead?" Gimli voiced his disbelief aloud. The rider finally relaxed, regarding us with sympathy.

"I am sorry."

We said nothing, for there was nothing to say. I glanced to Legolas, who looked mournful, as did Gimli and Aragorn. I had not the heart myself to offer them any comfort.

The rider turned, whistling sharply, "Hasufel! Arod! Laroval!

Three horses came forward obediently. I took the reins of the third, the bay Laroval, absently. His nose was soft as he pressed it against my fingers, but I could not appreciate him fully when my mind was struggling with the news we had been given.

"May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." The rider said as he slid his helmet back on and mounted his horse. "Farewell."

He rode a few paces, then paused and turned back, "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." He raised his voice to his men. "We ride north!"

The riders moved off, flowing around us and away. We stood, silent, as their hoof-beats faded into the distance.

"I will not believe it!"

The three turned to me, their expressions a little startled at my sudden outburst. I was tired, so tired, my muscles ached and my feet throbbed, but I squared my shoulders in determination. I would not give up on Merry and Pippin until I had to.

"I agree," Legolas stepped forward. "We must see it with our own eyes."

Aragorn swung himself up onto the deep chestnut horse, Hasufel, and looked down to us, "I would never have suggested otherwise."

We mounted our horses with renewed energy, Legolas and Gimli on the grey Arod and I on Lanroval. We would fine the halflings, and they would be alive.

I would accept nothing else.

* * *

**Updates will be slower from now on, I'm entering 'exam-season' and I've got to get the grades to go to Uni this year. I'll be aiming to update once a week, at least.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews.**

**B.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

* * *

The acrid stench of burning Orc grew stronger as we neared the pile of bodies, the smoke that lingered in the air stinging my eyes and irritating my throat. My mind briefly flickered back to my first battle as a member of the Guard, when I had been only six-and-ten. We'd set the carcasses alight afterwards and I hadn't been prepared for the horrid smell. The other experienced Guardsmen and woman had mocked me as I crouched in the bushes and heaved, but Captain Dregomir had clasped me on the shoulder once my stomach had settled again.

"Pay them no heed," he'd said, face stern. "They reacted just the same when they were your age. It never gets easier, but you'll learn to overcome it soon enough."

He was right, for even now I was forced to swallow the bile rising in my throat. We dismounted close by, the horses unwilling to go too close. I immediately began looking around, trying to see a sign of the halflings. There was nothing. Gimli shifted through the smouldering pile with his axe, pausing to pull out a charred belt and dagger sheath.

"It's one of their wee belts," he said thickly. Despair rose up and I gritted my teeth against it, turning my head away to hide the emotion on my face.

Legolas bowed his head mournfully, _"h__iro hyn hîdh… ab 'wanath..."_

Aragorn cried out in wordless anger, kicking a helmet violently and dropping to his knees. I thought of Merry and Pippin's happy, shining faces as they sung the songs they'd preformed on pub tables in the shire. I'd asked to here it, back when we'd just left Imladris. It seemed years ago now, and yet at the same time my time with such wonderful halflings felt pitifully short. They had not deserved to die like this, their corpses burning among beasts.

"We failed them," I said quietly, voice catching. For one, shattering moment, it was as if my whole life slipped through my fingers. Everything I had prided myself on, had built myself around, was reduced to dust. I was no Guard, I could not even protect those I loved. I didn't know who I was anymore. I was nothing.

"A hobbit lay here."

My head whipped around so fast my neck twinged painfully. Aragorn was still on his knees, but now he was gazing at the ground in fierce concentration. He reached out a hand, gesturing, "and the other."

He began to move quickly, scanning the track on the ground. Legolas, Gimli and I scrambled after him, holding our breath and not daring to hope. Yet hope flared, bright and warm in my chest.

"They crawled, their hands were bound." Aragorn picked up a piece of rope. "Their bonds were cut."

We hurried on, almost frantic in our search.

"They ran over here. They were followed."

"Tracks lead away from battle..." Aragorn stopped suddenly and we all looked up, into the deep, looming forest ahead. "...into Fangorn Forest."

"Fangorn?" Gimli raised his eyebrows, incredulous. "What madness drove them there?"

"The madness of hobbits, undoubtedly," I replied, grinning. "Never was I more glad of it!"

And it was true. Having felt such anguish only moments before I now felt sudden joy rise in me. It had been foolish for me to doubt the halfings, for if any could escape from a band of Uruk-hai in the heat of the battle it would be them. The dear little creatures! Fangorn may have been a dark and forbidding place, full of strange and ancient happenings, but I wondered how it would cope when faced with a force such as Merry and Pippin!

I strode forward, and when none followed me I spun to face them. All were eyeing the forest warily, reluctant to enter. I, too, knew the dangers of Fangorn, but I was unafraid. My determination filled me, mixed with my elation at the thought that the halflings still lived. My face lost it's serious set, alight with emotion.

"Well?" I demanded, though not harshly. "Would you three mighty warriors cower, when mere halflings went forth without fear?"

Their attention turned to me. An emotion I could not identify passed across Legolas' face as our gazes met, almost realisation, but with many others I could not name. For a second we were caught, locked in our own private world, and then Gimli stepped forward.

"Of course not!" He blustered, planting his hands on his hips. "Dwarves do not cower!"

"Ah, so then you would like to lead the way?" Legolas teased, only the slightest glimmer in his eyes betraying his amusement.

Gimli faltered, before he caught on and glowered at Legolas, "better than leaving the job to an elf!"

Aragorn laughed suddenly, stepping forward to clasp their shoulders, "my friends! We will enter Fangorn together."

I could not have wished for better company.

.o0o.

"Orc blood."

Gimli grimaced, lowering the blood-stained leaf he'd brought to his mouth. Fangorn Forest was a strange place; it felt disconnected from the rest of the world, as if by stepping inside we had entered a whole other realm. It made my skin crawl, for there was the constant feeling of eyes watching. The trees towered over our heads, the canopy blocking much of the sunlight so that we walked on in a dreary gloom. Aragorn paused, peering closely at the ground.

"These are strange tracks..." he murmured, mostly to himself, before continuing. A feeling on unease hung heavily on me. I could face opponents of flesh and blood with confidence, but things such as this were beyond my understanding. Still, the determination that had burned so brightly in me had not yet been put out, and I would not be deterred so easily.

"The air is so close in here," I said to Legolas, voice hushed. I felt that to speak any louder would be to break the heavy stillness of the place.

Legolas nodded absently, gazing up to the trees. "This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory...and anger."

I gripped the handle of my sword tightly for ressurance. Legolas' connection with nature was incomprehensible to me, which is perhaps why I found it so wonderful. He did not seem at all perturbed, more curious than anything. But then, one of the things I admired most about Legolas was his steady calm. He took everything in stride, looking to make the best of the situation rather than worry about things he could not change. Perhaps it was why I found his presence such a comfort – he was so tranquil, it settled me.

A deep groan echoed around us, I tensed anxiously. Legolas placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, "it is only the trees. They speak to each other."

"Gimli!" Aragorn hissed urgently. "Lower your axe!"

For a second Gimli looked puzzled, then realisation dawned and he lowered it quickly. I too released the grip on my weapon guiltily.

"They have feelings, my friend," Legolas spoke quietly. "The Elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak..."

For the first time, I looked to him and felt the huge gap between our races. Legolas was an elf – he had lived for hundreds of years before my birth, and would continue to live for years following my death. He had seen and experienced so much that I could not even imagine – I must have seemed childlike in comparison. He was so far ahead of me, so beyond my reach. That was a thought I crushed immediately, for what did it matter? Legolas was my friend, and while I knew of my attraction to him any other feelings had no place in a war. Especially not for someone who could never be mine.

"Talking trees," Gimli grumbled. "What do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

I smothered a smile. Ah, but thank the Valar for Gimli!

"Aragorn," Legolas frowned, and immediately my humour vanished, _"nad no ennas."_

Aragorn froze, _"Man cenich?"_

I watched as Legolas gazed ahead, deep into the forest. Only the slight frown showed his concern, but his expression was hard.

"The White Wizard approaches."

I sucked in a surprised breath. To face the White Wizard...I did not think we would defeat him. My talents were not in magic, and I had the feeling out weapons would be useless against him. I would fight, though. I would not back down.

"Do not let him speak," Aragorn cautioned as we all raised our weapons, Legolas drawing his bow. "He will put a spell on us. We must be quick."

We spun, only to be blinded by a brilliant white light. I was vaguely aware of Gimli's axe and Legolas' arrow being deflected as I swung my sword, and then it was burning so white hot that I cried out. I tried to hold on, but could not, and it clattered to the ground. Legolas caught my hand to steady me from my stumble backwards.

We stood together facing formless wizard, without weapons or defences. I found myself gripping Legolas' fingers and tightly as he gripped mine – waiting for our deaths. I cared not that it was, perhaps, inappropriate. I would not have let go of him then for the world.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," a voice boomed from the light.

"Where are they?" Aragorn demanded, and I marvalled at his ability to sound so strong when we were at the Wizard's mercy.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday," the voice replied, almost conversationally. I frowned, for there was something not right about this. "They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" Aragorn questioned, suspicious now. "Show yourself!"

The figure that stepped from the light was painfully familiar. I looked into the beloved face of Mithrandir, his grey robes now pure white.

"It cannot be," I breathed, my heart clenching in my chest. For Mithrandir to be alive...it was more than I could have ever hoped for.

"Forgive me," Legolas spoke, sounding distressed. "I mistook you for Saruman."

"I am Saruman," Mithrandir answered, smiling. "Or rather, Saruman as he should have been."

"You fell," Aragorn said in disbelief. I, too, struggled to understand. It was not possible, and yet I wanted it to be real more than anything.

"Through fire...and water," Mithrandir agreed. His eyes turned far away, lost in memory. "From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth."

"But it was not the end. I felt life in me again," he focused on us once more. "I've been sent back, until my task is done."

Joy – sheer joy – bloomed inside of me. I cannot explain what it is like to have a dear friend returned to you, when you thought them lost forever. One of the heavy weights that had been pressing on my heart lifted, leaving only happiness in it's wake.

"Gandalf," Aragorn stepped forward, chocked with emotion.

"Gandalf?" For a moment Mithrandir seemed puzzled. "Yes, that is what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

He smiled, "I am Gandalf the White, and I come back to you now at the turning of the tide."

* * *

**Helwyn's having a mid-life crisis but I promise she stops being all angst-y and kinda bi-polar soon! I hope this chapter wasn't too boring? **

**Sorry for the long gap between updates, I have to work super hard for exams right now.**

**All reviews are appreciated so much! I'm not that confident in my writing really, this is the first fan-fic I've ever actually stuck with, and your comments truly motivate me to keep going.**

**B.**

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**_"h__iro hyn hîdh… ab 'wanath..." = "may they rest in peace."_**

**___"nad no ennas" = "something's out there"_**

**_____"man cenich" = "what do you see?_**

** If I get any of the elvish wrong, please let me know.**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

**Apologies if this is of lesser quality, I'm super stressed over exams right now. My last one is June 20****th****, so it's going to be this way for a while yet.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews, they make my day. I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you like/dislike (as some of you have) since it's super helpful when it comes to improving my writing. Anything you'd particularly like to see happen? I'm writing this for you guys as much as for myself.**

**B.**

* * *

War was coming.

Mithrandir told us as much as much as we rode, that Sauron's fear of Aragorn's return would drive him to strike hard and fast at the world of men. Even had he not said so, a heavy tension lay over the plains of Rohan, a sense of horrible foreboding. After years of struggle and the months of our travel, it seemed that suddenly events were accelerating towards a final conclusion. My thoughts turned to my beloved city, which would be the target for Sauron's army in Mordor. Though Mithrandir's return and the knowledge of Merry and Pippin's safety had soothed my soul, this knew revelation tore at me once more. For the first time I became anxious to return to Minas Tirith. Had I been right in continuing on with the Fellowship, that day at Amon Hen? At the time it had not even been a choice, but now I could not help but feel that I had abandoned my home when it needed me most.

There was nothing to be done to change the past. I would have to face my choices. Presently there was a greater threat, for Rohan was ready to fall – the mind of Théoden King overthrown, as Mithrandir had put it. Without Rohan there would be no help for Gondor, and I was not confident that Gondor could stand alone.

I worried for Frodo also, for he would be travelling in the most danger. I wished I was there to protect him, though Mithrandir was insistent that this was a task the halfling would have to complete alone. And I could not be in three places at once, in any case. At least Sam was with him, I knew well that Sam would not allow Frodo to come to any harm. All our hopes rested on them and I refused to allow myself to lose hope.

On the second day of our ride we stopped to watch as the light of dawn bathed Edoras, the golden roof of Meduseld glowing brilliantly. It was a glorious sight. I had read a lot about Rohan in my studies as a child but had never been able to picture what Meduseld would truly look like. I had never been too interested – for me, Gondor had always been enough, and I had been focused on my desire to protect my home. Yet, I had seen so many wonders on this journey; it was as if the lands beyond Gondor's boarders had suddenly become real to me. Despite the beauty of the view, Mithrandir's face remained grave, and we rode on swiftly.

We reached the outside gates in late morning. Clouds had gathered, turning everything dreary and grey, the wind strong and cold. As we entered, it was clear to see that the glory of Edoras was waning. It was quiet and empty, nothing like the busy noise of Minas Tirith, filled with traders and markets and children playing in the streets. There was no colour, only brown mud. The roof of Meduseld had dimmed and now seemed dull and old.

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered, and it was saddening that his words were true.

We dismounted and walked up the steps to the Hall, the air of resigned defeat that hung about us making me feel discomforted. As we neared the doors a man, followed by his guards, stepped out of the doors.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue," he said. I raised my eyebrows, wondering what authority this Grima had to issue such and order, especially considering the faint distaste on this man's face. At Mithrandir's nod, we each gave in and began the process of disarming ourselves. When they asked for Mithrandir's staff, however, the wizard simply lent on it innocently.

"You would not part an old man from his walking stick?"

The man looked worried for a moment, then gave in an led us forward. Legolas gave Mithrandir his arm to hold on to, even as he met my eyes with a wink. I rolled my eyes at their acting.

The Hall was large and mostly empty, though several guards lined the edges. At the far end Théoden King sat upon his throne, and I could not hide my surprise at his appearance. Surely he was not so old as that? I tried to remember the year he came to the throne in an attempt to reconcile myself with the ancient, wizened figure that slumped in his seat, eyes clouded and vacant. Beside him a man knelt; his black hair greasy, his skin sallow and his pale eyes bulbous. They left a cold trail on my skin as they looked us over. I immediately knew that this man was of the worst kind. On the King's other side stood a beautiful woman dressed in a white gown. She was slender and fair, with a waterfall of golden hair to her waist. Her expression was an icy mask.

As we approached, the slimy man leaned up to whisper in the King's ear. I did not catch the words, but I knew that they would not be good.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Mithrandir stated, his voice filling the hall effortlessly. I noticed the guards following behind us as we walked, and readied myself.

The man began whispering again, and this time I heard him instruct, "he's not welcome."

Breathing raspy, as if each word took effort, Théoden obediently said, "why should I…welcome you…Gandalf Stormcrow?"

The name was meant as an insult, I knew. Legolas drew back to Gimli, Aragorn and I, each of us prepared for trouble. I could only guess that this man, the King's puppeteer, was the Grima Wormtongue the man had spoken of at the doors.

"A just question, my liege," Wormtongue announced. He stood, stepping forward to meet Mithrandir, each word that left his lips as slippery as the last. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

My eyebrows rose in astonishment that such a pathetic man would speak to Mithrandir with so much disrespect. Mithrandir glanced at him as one would an irritating fly.

"Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm."

I smothered my amusement, for now was not the time, but I always had enjoyed Mithrandir's way with words. Legolas caught my gaze briefly with a flicker of a smile.

"His staff!" Wormtongue floundered, backing quickly towards the King. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

The guards, realising their mistake, moved to apprehend us. Fortunately we were ready, and Mithrandir continued to walk towards the throne as we fought around him. I caught the wrist of one man as he swung at me, twisting his arm so that he was forced to bend over into my knee as I rammed it up into his diaphragm. He wheezed, dropping to the floor as I let go, unable to get his breath. I was just in time to watch Legolas finish an opponent in a beautifully fluid set of moves that left me a little breathless myself.

"Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the Shadows," Mithrandir boomed, striding onwards.

Another opponent faced me, and I was forced to engage in a fierce exchange that tested my abilities. Fortunately, I was well used to fighting those bigger and stronger than myself due to all my training, and managed to dodge a hit that left him off-balance. Seeing my chance, I aimed a kick to his chest and sent him sprawling backwards.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grima attempting to escape, but before I could do anything Gimli caught him and subdued him with a boot upon his chest.

"I would stay still if I were you," he warned sternly.

Mithrandir stopped in front of the King.

"Harken to me!"

The Hall fell still and silent, and all watched at Mithrandir raised his staff to Théoden, "I release you from this spell."

For a moment we stood, hardly daring to breathe and break the intense concentration on Mithrandir's face. and then Théoden began to laugh – thin and reedy and full of malice.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the _Grey," _he sneered. Mithrandir said nothing, simply shedding the grey cloak he wore and flooding the Hall with his white light. The power in it was staggering. Théoden cowered on his throne, clutching his chest and crying out.

"I draw you, Saurman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Mithrandir thrust forward his staff, throwing Théoden back against his seat. The woman, who I had forgotten, let out of sound of distress and moved forward to help him. Aragorn caught her arm, holding her back.

"If I go…" Théoden managed, but his voice was no longer his own, "…Théoden dies!"

Mithrandir pushed harder, the light burned brighter, "you did not kill me, you will not kill him!"

Théoden writhed, gasping, "Rohan is _mine!"_

"Be gone!" Mithrandir demanded. Théoden lunged for him suddenly and I jerked forward, ready to step in, but Mithrandir thrust him back with his staff once again. Théoden finally slumped down, defeated. Aragorn allowed the woman to run and stop him falling. The tension that had filled the hall dissolved as Mithrandir relaxed, and I watched the change that came over the ancient figure of the King in amazement. His thin, white hair became thicker and more golden, his sagging skin reduced and his eyes cleared. He looked alive again, no longer the faint ghost of a man.

"I know your face," he murmured, looking down to the woman at his feet, "Eowyn… _Eowyn."_

Tears of joy slid down the woman's cheeks, even as she smiled, and in her emotion she looked far more beautiful than she had cold and hard. The King turned to us now, his face puzzled, "Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," Mithrandir smiled as Théoden used Eowyn's support to stand.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," the King said distantly, staring down at his shaking hands as if they did not belong to him. He seemed so lost.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped your sword," Mithrandir reassured, gesturing.

The man at the door came forward, handing the King his weapon. Théoden lifted it and drew the blade, eyeing the shining steel in wonder. We all marvelled at his miraculous return, and I was glad, for I could think of nothing worse than having your own mind taken from you. Even so, the sight pained me, as I could not deny the sad contrast between this warrior King and my own Lord. In Théoden I recognised a strong leader, a noble man, of better quality than Lord Denethor, who cowered in his court while his people died for him. Here was a man whose men would follow into battle without hesitation. If only Lord Denethor were so strong!

Lord Boromir had led Gondor once, but with his death the responsibility would fall to Lord Faramir. It was not that I doubted Lord Faramir, for I had fought beside him also and I recognised his qualities as if his father did not. I knew, though, that without his Lord Denethor's confidence there was little Lord Faramir could do for Gondor, and it worried me greatly. Even as Rohan grew stronger, Gondor appeared weaker than ever.

The moment of contemplation did not last, for Wormtongue tried once more for freedom, only to be held fast once more beneath Gimli's boot. His actions brought him to Théoden's attention, and all happiness faded from the King's face.

"Get him out!" Théoden thundered. Guards scooped the leech up by the back of his furs, dragging him from the hall and tossing him down the steps in disgrace. Théoden stormed after them. I followed, the force of Théoden's sudden ire understandable, if a little disconcerting. Outside, the people of Edoras had emerged from their homes and now stood watching as their King marched forward, sword in hand, face ablaze with anger.

"I've only ever served you, my Lord!" Wormtongue beseeched, crawling backward through the dirt on his hands, wide-eyed and full of fear.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden raged, continuing to advance.

"Send me not from your sight!" Wormtongue pleaded desperately, quivering pitifully. Théoden raised his sword above his head, as if he meant to execute the man right there, on the steps of Meduseld.

"No, my Lord!" Aragorn called out, urgently, before continuing more calmly. "No, my Lord, let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account."

Théoden hesitated, before thankfully he lowered his weapon. Wormtongue scrambled to his feet with an ugly sneer, pushing away through the crowd. I was glad to see him go, and I had not even truly known him. I could not imagine living with him for so long, as Eowyn had done. There was a moment of tense silence in the aftermath, as no-one was sure of what would happen next. I took in the people's pale, anxious faces, and wished for some way to reassure them that their King was strong once more. Thankfully, the man who had guarded the door stepped forwards once again.

"Hail, Théoden King!"

Hope washed through the crowd and the people knelt, regardless of the mud, looking up in reverence at their restored King. We all knelt with them, even Aragorn, paying our homage. Théoden stood before us, raising his head. It was clear this was as reassuring for him as it was for the people. I could not help but long for the day I would kneel to Aragorn as my King in Minas Tirith, the banner of Gondor flying in the wind, the sound of silver trumpets in the air. What a magnificent day it would be! It would be talked about in history, I was sure. If only it was not such an impossible dream, with all that lay ahead.

Théoden turned to face Meduseld, frowning as he asked, "where is Theodred?"

Only silence greeted him. I looked at the bleak faces of his household and my heart sank in dread.

"Where is my _son?"_


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

* * *

The King's son was dead.

What should have been a happy day was now saddened. The King retired to his rooms immediately after giving instructions for the funeral that eve. I was selfishly grateful, for I could not look upon the devastation on his face without seeing Lord Denethor in his place. Did my Lord know yet that his beloved son was dead? And Lord Faramir, who had loved and admired his elder brother so deeply, did he still believe that Boromir would return? Had I done my duty I would have taken the news to them myself – and if duty was not reason enough, than I should have done so simply because I was obligated morally. Again and again I doubted my choice to continue on with what was left of the Fellowship. Had I not betrayed my Lord; betrayed my home? And yet I could not bear the thought of leaving my companions, who were now so dear to me. I could not let them continue this fight for all of Arda without me.

I was torn. I wished for a return to a time before all this, when I had been so sure in my duty and my position. I had known exactly how I wanted my life to be. Now I was lost; unconfident in myself as I never had been before. My spirits sank ever deeper, the heavy emptiness that had been pressing on my heart since Boromir's passing growing with every moment.

I knew not how to escape from it.

.o0o.

We were given time to rest and recuperate, each of us being granted a chamber of our own. Eowyn showed me to my mine, leading me down the corridors of Meduseld. I found it to be a comfortable place, a place that suited warmth and cheer better than the bleak despair and weariness that filled it. I could not blame them. It was clear that Rohan had suffered much because of Saruman, and the passing of Theodred was a heavy loss.

Eowyn did not speak as we walked together, her face an unreadable mask. Not as cold as it had been when I first saw her, it was now set with what seemed to be hard determination. I could not be certain – she was better at hiding her emotion than any of the women at court.

"I will have Brythwyn heat water for your bath," she told me once we entered, the tone of her voice giving away nothing. My room was small and simple, dressed with thick rugs of rich colours and nicely carved wooden furnishings. After months on the road and days of running, it was a true blessing.

"Only if it is not too much trouble, my Lady," I replied, not wanting to bother anyone with as small a thing as my bath on such a day as this.

Eowyn simply waved her hand dismissively, "it is nothing."

Not wanting to press further, and secretly desperate to clean myself and relax, I inclined my head politely.

"Thank you for your hospitality, my Lady."

There was a pause. I had been expecting her to leave as soon as she could, but instead Eowyn continued to linger in the doorway, watching me intently as I took in the room. She was an intimidating woman – because of her beauty, but also because her eyes reflected an inner core of steel. She would be a formidable opponent, for she seemed the kind of woman who could wield her words as cuttingly as any weapon. Not that I thought she couldn't handle a blade; I recognised the way she moved as one who had been trained in swordsmanship.

"You are Captain of Minas Tirith," Eowyn blurted suddenly. I blinked, turning away from the view out the window to face her.

"I am Captain of the Guard, that is true," I agreed, puzzled at her interest.

She nodded to herself almost absently, though her eyes were intently concentrated. "Then you have seen many battles?"

"I have been Captain for eight years, my Lady, and the agents of Mordor do not rest," I answered slowly, unsure as to what she wished to hear. It was clear she was working towards something, but I did not yet understand what it was.

Eowyn frowned, "please, do not call me that. I do not wish to be reminded of my restrictions."

My brows rose in surprise at her vehemence. I could have pointed out that as the niece of the King who was Gondor's most valuable ally, the respect of the title was truly necessary. Especially coming from one such as me, who was below her position. However, I did not think this was the right time.

It struck me, then, how clearly she reminded me of Boromir. Eowyn was much better at masking her emotions than he had ever been, but now that I was really looking I could see the same burning passion in her eyes that Boromir had always expressed. He had felt things so deeply, so strongly, and his emotions had fuelled his actions more often than not. It did not mean he had been rash necessarily, only that he did not back down from his beliefs and he did not give in. I was almost certain Eowyn was similar.

I knew, now, exactly how to handle the situation.

"Of course," I said pleasantly, and keeping my voice carefully neutral, enquired, "Eowyn, is there something I can do for you?"

Eowyn seemed taken aback for a moment at my frankness. Then she gathered herself – squaring her shoulders, raising her chin, and meeting my gaze firmly. This stance I also recognised, from some of the recruits that came to me, asking to join the Guard. There were always those that expected their choice to be opposed, usually because they had faced criticism or resistance from their family. They stood as Eowyn did now, defiantly, prepared to fight for their choice. It made me equal parts curious and apprehensive to hear what Eowyn had to say.

"Tell me what battle is like," she demanded.

Somehow, it did not surprise me. Not when I had observed that she possessed some skill with a weapon, and her disgust at being called a Lady. I did not like to assume, not knowing Eowyn or anyone of Meduseld, but a picture began to form in my mind as I put the pieces together.

Here was an intelligent woman of strong spirit, who had been trained with a sword, and yet was a Lady. She was young also, younger than I – though I was not one to put much emphasis on age. One of my Guardswomen, Liliwen, had come from a noble family and she had told me of their wish that she remain a gentle woman of the court. Not because they thought her incapable, simply because they wanted her to be safe and to marry and provide heirs. It was possible the same was true for Eowyn.

Taking into account what I had seen of Eowyn's personality, I imagined it could not have been easy for her to watch as her Uncle faded, her brother was cast out, and her House became weak and failing. For a woman such as she, being constrained by the limitations of her position and her age must have been unbearable. Now, it seemed, she was going to fight back.

"Perhaps we should sit first," I suggested, gesturing to the chairs placed in front of the fire. I forced down my weariness and my own personal misery, for if there was a possibility that I could aid Eowyn than I would certainly try. Especially since she reminded me so strongly of Liliwen – and of Boromir.

"Very well," Eowyn allowed, marching quickly over the chairs and sinking down into one, graceful even in her impatience. Her lovely hair pooled around her, framing her delicate features. I followed more slowly, using the time to organise my thoughts.

"I will tell you of battle if you wish, though I cannot promise it will be what you expect," I told her.

Eowyn frowned, her tone almost snappish as she replied, "I am no child who cannot handle the truth."

"Of course not," I said evenly. Her abrasiveness did not bother me, for I knew it was born from frustration as her situation and not at me. "I had been Captain of the Guard for four years at your age, hardly a task for a child."

"You were not seen as too young?" She questioned, tilting her head curiously. Her manner had softened a little. Perhaps seeing that I was not going to deny her, or try to discourage her.

"By some, but only those who were not soldiers themselves," I said, trying to ignore how odd it was to be having this conversation with the King of Rohan's niece. I was not used to meeting royalty, yet on this journey I had found myself surrounded by them. "A solider knows that age matters little in battle, for the oldest can be cut down just as easily as the youngest. Experience helps, but in the end it comes down to a combination of skill and luck."

Eowyn hesitated for a moment, before admitting, "my Uncle and my brother refuse to speak to me of battle. They still see me as a girl who needs shielding from the evils of the world."

I smiled gently, "as my father still sees me, though I have proven myself many times and seen many evils. It is only a natural desire to protect those they love."

"Perhaps, but I cannot be naïve if I am to help lead our people, not in times as dark as this," Eowyn's face hardened again with her conviction. "Tell me truthfully what it is like to fight."

I would tell her, though I would have to speak cautiously, for I did not wish to encourage her and possibly cause strife between her and the King, nor would I ever encourage anyone to go into battle. However, to tell her to give up her beliefs and cage her spirit would be wrong.

So I began, "often times, I find that battle is tedious."

"Tedious?" She exclaimed, shocked.

"Indeed." I hid my amusement at her disbelief, continuing, "there can be many hours of marching or patrolling, and even when you find the enemy there is endless waiting – for them to move first or for there to be favourable conditions to make your own attack. It becomes monotonous."

I paused, growing more serious.

"There are times when the waiting is the worst part. You are filled with dread, your survival uncertain, and you cannot help but wonder which of your men or women will be lost this time. When the battle begins there is no time for thought. It is messy and desperate – loud, from the shouting of men, the clashing of weapons and the screams of the dying, but the pounding of your own heart in your ears is louder. Your muscles burn and your feet ache. You cannot rest for a moment, even when exhaustion lies upon you like a heavy weight. It is a nightmare."

Eowyn seemed deeply concerned by my words, though she did not seem to be swayed, "is it not courageous? When you triumph, is there not glory? Better to have a chance at valor than be locked in a cage to wither."

"Even when you triumph there are bodies to be burned and friends to be buried," I pointed out. Still, I thought of all the times I had returned to Minas Tirith at Boromir's side, the sound of silver trumpets ringing in the air, people cheering in the streets and throwing petals of all colours over our heads. I could not imagine a time I had been happier, filled with pride and love for my home. I ached with longing for it. "I admit it is true that there is no greater feeling than returning to your city, knowing you are victorious and your people safe."

Eowyn nodded, and I could tell that my words had done nothing to change her resolve. Honestly, I did not think that Eowyn was a woman who could survive being caged. At least this way she would have the chance to flourish – and I could only hope she was not lost in the process.

"Thank you, Helwyn," Eowyn thanked me genuinely.

"There is no need for thanks," I dismissed gently. Eowyn rose and shook out her skirts, making to leave. She hesitated a moment, her gaze drawn to the bleak view out of the window, the brightness in her eyes fading until they were distant and sad.

"It was Theodred who taught me to use a sword, you know."

I looked away, partly because I knew she would not want me to see her weakness, but mostly because her sadness too closely echoed my own.

"I have kept you too long," she said at length, stepping briskly to the door. All signs of her emotion smoothed away. "I will go now and fetch Brythwyn so you can rest."

She was almost to the door when I called out, "Eowyn, if I may offer some advice?"

She turned, brows furrowed curiously, and indicated that I continue.

"Do not go into battle in search of glory," I cautioned. "If you go, go because you must to protect your people and your family. You will find no glory in war."

.o0o.

I stood with Eowyn and the other women as Theodred's body was carried to the burial grounds. Six royal guards held him aloft. They were followed by Théoden, Aragorn, Mithrandir, Legolas and Gimli, the rest of the people of Edoras behind. All were silent. Beside me, Eowyn's face was stone.

The tombs of Rohan's Kings were beautiful, covered in a carpet of white flowers. It was a shame that such beauty would be the scene of such a tragic day. I watched as Theodred was passed to the women; they cared for him with gentle hands. I felt saddened by his passing, though I had not known him personally. It was clear by the reactions of the people that he had been much loved.

How many fathers would have to bury their sons because of this war?

The echoing silence was broken as Eowyn began to sing. Her voice pure and passionate, wavering in places as she fought tears. Her hands, gripping her black veil tightly, trembled with her emotion.

_"Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended_  
_giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende_,"

I let the words settle over me. I did not know their meaning, but I could feel it in the way Eowyn sang and in the heaviness of the air. Theodred's body passed us, hands folded across his breast with his sword clasped between. He look as if he was only sleeping. I thought of Boromir, lying grey-faced and cold as he drifted down the Anduin.

_"on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære,"_

I clenched my jaw against my own sadness, forcing it down and hardening my heart to it. I was Captain of the Guard, a representative of Gondor. Even if my Lord would strip me from my position as soon as I returned, I would not fail him any more than I already had. I did not have the luxury of being allowed to give in to my emotion. I needed to be strong.

_"his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost."_

Legolas caught my gaze. I glanced away again quickly, but not before seeing his brows furrow slightly in concern.

_ "__Bealo..."_

The door of the tomb slammed shut.

I avoided all on our way back to Edoras, returning to my chamber alone.

* * *

**I found this chapter difficult, as I actually found Eowyn hard to write. I hope I didn't do too badly. Also, I hope I'm not over-doing Helwyn's emotional turmoil – I feel like this is how she would be in this situation, torn between two loyalties, but I'm not sure if it's going on too much.**

**In any case, it'll be sorted soon-ish, and there will be a lot more Helwyn/Legolas moments hooooray.**

**Your reviews mean so much to me, as always. Special thanks to Pale Moon Swamp, your reviews are so helpful and I appreciate you wishing me luck!**

**B.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Disclaimer: I do not own lotr, only Helwyn.**

**I screw with the timeline a bit here – it actually only takes them one day to reach Helm's Deep, I think, but I wanted to add some extra bits so I'm employing my artistic licence again.**

* * *

"Helm's Deep."

It did not take much to tell that Mithrandir disapproved of the King's choice. We walked with him through Edoras, the people around us hurrying to gather their belongings. It was a far cry from the silent ghost town we had first entered – now it bordered on chaos. No respite had been given following Theodred's funeral, for the arrival of two children had brought news of the Wild Men moving through the Westfold. Now the whole of Edoras was preparing to leave for the refuge of Helm's Deep.

I had been summoned to the Hall then the children first arrived but had participated little in the following debate, as it was not my place. Considering how Théoden had reacted to Aragorn's input I doubted he would have welcomed the comments of a woman from Gondor. I had never seen Helm's Deep, only knowing it from descriptions of it and maps during my studies, and even I had enough experience to know that the King's decision was the wrong one, particularly when taking into account what Mithrandir said about Saruman.

"They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight," Gimli grumbled, voicing all our thoughts. "Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn admonished, peacemaker as usual. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

"It will not save them now. Sarauman seeks to destroy Rohan, not simply to control it. He will not be satisfied until Helm's Deep has fallen," I said, speaking for the first time as we entered the stables. Mithrandir had decided to ride out and find Eomer, who we had met on our search for the halflings and was leading 2,000 men loyal to the King. They would be vital if Rohan was to win this battle. I could only hope Mithrandir would be successful.

"Are there not routes for escape?" Legolas questioned, frowning slightly.

"There is no way out of that ravine; Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading them to safety and what they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan," Mithrandir's face was grave as he turned to Aragorn. "He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defences _must_ hold."

Aragorn took a breath, his face hard and determined.

"They will hold."

Mithrandir moved to Shadowfax, stroking down his soft nose. Shadowfax was a truly magnificent horse, his dark eyes filled with intelligence, his coat glimmering with starlight. Even my own horse would have bowed to him, and she was a proud mare.

"The Grey Pilgrim; that's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time," Mithrandir muttered, shaking his head. "With luck, my search will not be in vain."

He mounted the horse. We moved aside, looking up at him. I wished he was not leaving, for having Mithrandir with us again had been a comfort, his steady guidance so assuring. But this was war, and there was no use for wishing.

"Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day," Mithrandir instructed, fixing each of us in turn with his piercing gaze.

"At dawn, look to the east."

.o0o.

It would take us two days to reach Helm's Deep, and we would be forced to camp overnight because of the women and children that came with us. I rode alone, on Laroval, content with my own company. I did not feel up to speaking.

The weather had cleared a little, gaps in the clouds allowing sunlight to spill through and illuminate the rolling plains in golden patches. On one side of us stretched vast lakes of crystal clear water like sheets of glass, glittering in the afternoon light. Though it was weather-worn and rugged, Rohan was a beautiful country.

Ahead of me Legolas rode beside Gamling, speaking with him at great length. It stuck me, suddenly, that I had not conversed with Legolas for days – nothing had passed between us outside of group made me long for those easy days spent together in Lothlorien, for I found that I missed his company.

My thoughts were broken as a cry rang out, and I watched as Gimli's horse bolted, depositing him unceremoniously onto the ground. Eowyn ran to help him up, though she was laughing.

"It's all right. Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate," Gimli blustered, getting to his feet and straightening his helmet. Legolas turned to catch my eye, his amusement plain, no doubt expecting me to share it as always. I quickly managed to force a smile, frustrated at my own apathy. Legolas' expression faded into a slight frown.

Worried that he would question me on it, I quickly spurred Laroval on to catch up with Aragorn and ask him to give me details of Helm's Deep. He obliged me happily, and I was able to listen without having to contribute overly much.

When I glanced around again Legolas had returned to his previous discussion, all seemingly forgotten.

.o0o.

The night was dark and cool. I sat alone, a little away from the main company, unable to sleep. I could hear the soft ruffle of fabrics, the quiet shuffling and occasional whisper of voices as the people of Edoras settled for the night. Somewhere nearby a mother was singing her child to sleep. It was comforting, these regular sounds of life. It seemed a long time since I had been among so many, and I missed it.

We would rise at dawn. I knew I needed the rest, if I was to be any use in defending these people, but my mind kept turning in circles. Instead, I looked up at the stars – the same stars I had observed all those nights spent out patrolling Gondor's lands, when my guardsmen lay sleeping around me and the hours of my watch duty dragged on. It made me feel a little closer to home.

"The stars are bright tonight,"

I started, automatically reaching for the hilt of my sword and half-rising from the ground before I registered who had spoken. Legolas mad materialised out of the darkness, his movements so silent I had not heard him approach even though I was trained for such things.

"Forgive me," he said, the faint light from the torches at the camp casting a glow across the right side of his face and allowing me to glimpse the curve of his smile. "I did not mean to startle you."

"There is no need for forgiveness," I dismissed, relaxing back to sit comfortably on my bed roll. To my slight surprise, Legolas came forward and took a place opposite me, gracefully folding himself to the ground. His back was to the camp and so his face was now shadowed.

There was a pleasant few moments where we simply sat together watching the stars as the sounds of the camp faded. I tried to memorise the feeling of enjoying his company, for I did not think there would be such peace in the coming days.

"You are troubled."

I tensed immediately at his words and opened my mouth to deny them, but he must have seen something in my face that gave me away – or he simply knew me too well by now.

"Do not deny it, Helwyn."

When I did not speak, he continued, "I have seen you fading, these past days. A great worry lays heavily on you. You have lost much on this journey, I know, and I regret that it has been so. I hoped our discovery of the hobbit's flee to Fangorn would help ease your pain, but since you have only retreated further into yourself."

Legolas reached out slowly and linked my fingers with his. I stared down at our clasped hands, barely visible to me in the dark. His was larger than mine, with long, slim fingers and rough callouses from his bow that sent shivers across my skin. When he spoke, his voice was impossibly gentle,

"Tell me of your troubles. You are strong, Helwyn, but you need not bear them alone."

I looked to him now, my breath taken at the vision he made. The flicking glow of the torches from the camp behind outlined his hair in a halo of warm gold, but it was the starlight that illuminated his face and was reflected brilliantly in his eyes. Though I could not see well in the dimness, I could see enough to know that his expression was achingly tender.

My walls crumbled away, reduced to dust in the face of his caring. Never had anyone managed to weaken my defences so much. All of my compressed feelings rushed forth in a wave that threatened to drown me, but relief came with it – the relief of finally sharing my fears.

I had no control over the words that spilled from my lips. I spoke rapidly, desperate for him to understand now that I had given up my pretence. Legolas did not seem to mind, listening to me as if every letter was crucial to hear.

"I have broken my oath." My voice wavered a little in my distress, "I should have returned to Gondor after Boromir – after Amon Hen, to take up my duties as Captain once again. I did not, and now I have betrayed my Lord and abandoned my home."

I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.

"Lord Denethor will not forgive such a transgression. I will be stripped from my position and I do not – I cannot –" I broke off, struggling to express myself. I had never been able to talk of my feelings well and the thought was too painful to think about.

I knew Legolas would understand regardless. I had told him, back in Lothlorien, of how I had grown up in the Guard because of my father's position. I could not remember a time when I had wanted anything other than to join the Guard, to train with them, to defend Gondor with all I had. It had been my entire life for so long – without it I had nothing.

Legolas tilted his head, contemplating, before he spoke, "though you have perhaps disobeyed the orders of your Lord, but I do not think you have broken your oath or abandoned your City."

I was already shaking my head, but he held up a hand to forestall me.

"Did you not tell me once that, although in the oath you swear to obey your Lord, you may go against his orders if it is for the protection of Gondor?"

I nodded, frowning. Satisfied, Legolas continued,

"You began this journey as part of a Fellowship whose task, if successful, would free all the people of Arda – including Gondor. Though Frodo has taken that task on alone, we continue to oppose Sauron and aid those who stand against him with every move we make. You may not be with Gondor directly, but your actions here help to shape what war they will eventually face. As long as you fight for them, you have not abandoned your people."

I knew what he said was the truth – had known it all along, buried beneath the cloud of my emotions. Yet one torment still remained. I trembled, so horribly vulnerable, as I bared my soul and spoke my greatest fear,

"But what am I, if not a member of the guard?"

"You are Helwyn," Legolas said, and there was something in his voice that compelled me to meet his eyes. The starlight in them burned brightly, the intensity locking me in place. I felt as if the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of us, bound together in this moment. All I could see, all I could hear, was him.

"You are a skilled warrior, but you are not rash. You know when not to speak, and when you do speak every word has meaning. You see details most would miss. You do not smile nor laugh often enough, though I know well your sense of humour. You are strong, and care so deeply for others that you would gladly take their troubles onto yourself if it meant their happiness. You are courageous. Your loyalty and dedication is unfailing. This is who you are, and who you will always be. Your position as Captain does not define you."

We remained trapped in that world, our gazes never wavering. My mind was numb, struggling with the words as they sank in. Never had anyone understood me so thoroughly, been able to see the very deepest parts of myself so clearly. I could not comprehend it. It was too much.

I blinked, a single tear rolling down my cheek.

Legolas gathered me to him instantly and I did not try to fight it, gripping his tunic tightly as I wept silently into his shoulder. All the stress, the anxiety, the doubt washed away from me, leaving only the lightness of relief in their wake. Relief that I had not forsaken my home after all, that I still did my duty even if it was in a different way. Perhaps I would lose my position on my return, but it would not be the end. I knew, now, that I had friends who would not let me fade away.

Once that was done, I allowed myself to weep for Boromir also.

For all the loved ones he had left behind, but mostly for myself – because I missed him greatly. Before leaving Gondor I would have been saddened at his passing, as one is sad to lose a comrade in battle. Since then I had spent months travelling alone with him and I come to think of him as a close friend. We had shared much together. I had not had the chance to mourn him properly, when there were still the hobbits to save, so I mourned him now. I went through all my memories with him in my mind, until the pain of his passing eased and I could think of his life in happiness once again.

They were healing tears, stitching up that empty space inside my chest.

Eventually my eyes dried, and I found myself thinking of that day at Amon Hen. Had I not decided then that I would not wallow in misery, but that I would live? Had I not been determined to fight alongside the Fellowship? It seemed that I had done just the opposite, allowing myself to sinking into despair – despite all the advice I had given to new recruits over the years on how to cope with such losses. I could not think of a time in my life when I had been so emotional.

I pulled away from Legolas, though as soon as I did so I missed his warmth and the feeling of his arms around me. I felt surprisingly little embarrassment considering I had just been clinging to him like a child. Or maybe it was not so surprising, given that it was Legolas. To everyone else I felt as if I had to live up to my position, but with him I was at ease to be myself.

"I have been a fool," I told him, wiping the tear marks from my cheeks.

"No," Legolas disagreed. "It is easy to lose yourself in sadness and worry, and once there it is difficult to see the truth of the situation again. It is simply part of living. Even the wisest minds experience it."

I raised my brows sceptically, though inwardly I was smiling as I said, "including the Elves?"

Legolas chuckled softly, the sound of it warming me from the inside. "Yes. We can be very irrational at times - but do not tell Gimli I uttered such words."

This time it was I who laughed quietly, startling myself. I could not remember the last time I had laughed. It released the last knot of tightness in my chest. Though I would always carry guilt over my failure to do my duty and protect Boromir, I had made my peace with it. I would continue to worry for the safety of Gondor, and the thought of losing my position was still painful, but they no longer seemed like impossible shadows I had no hope of overcoming. Whatever the future held, I would face it head held high and fighting for everything I loved.

"The night is passing, and you must rest," Legolas' smile was just visible in the dark as he touched his fingers to the back of my hand briefly. I gripped them, squeezing tightly and meeting his eyes firmly so he could not mistake how much his comfort this night had meant to me.

"_Thank you_, Legolas."

He returned my grip, starlight burning in his eyes once again, "I am with you, Helwyn, through whatever troubles you may face. Do not forget."

His words touched me deeply. Never had I had a friend who cared for me as much as he.

"_Losto vê, hiril vuin," _Legolas spoke, rising from his place beside me to stand.

"Goodnight," I bid him, and watched as he strode back into the camp – confident and unbothered. I do not deny that I admired the figure he made.

I settled down onto my bedroll, my mind clear and at peace for the first time in days. My self-assurance had always been built around my position as Captain of the Guard. Now it was centred on something much more substantial –

_Myself_.

* * *

**I have been planning this chapter for ages! I hope you enjoyed it. I didn't update last week because I wanted to take the time to get this exactly right. There could probably still be improvements, but I'm pretty happy. Not sure how regular updates will be from now on, since my exams are super close now.**

**Also I wanted to update this week because it's my 18****th**** birthday on Tuesday (3****rd**** of June) and I wanted this to be a sort-of backwards present? Does that even make sense? But yeah, I wanted to end all the angst and let you know that from now on Helwyn kicks butt.**

**Thanks so much for your reviews!**

**B.**

"_**Losto vê, hiril vuin" = **_**"Sleep well, beloved Lady" – though of course Helwyn is not Lady, I thought this was a good way to show Legolas' respect and caring for her.**


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